She buried a braid of her
Sister’s hair in the sand
And whispered amen
Her bloodied hands on her
Yellow sun dress swayed swayed
to the joy of death
She stepped onto Buddha’s clouds
Aiming to fall
Onto reality’s ground
Her descent was quick
Her neck snapped when
Her sister caught her by
Her feet
*
ABOUT THE WRITER
Fiona Cheong writes poetry that explores the inner struggles of childhood; what is real to a child may not be understood by adults such as grief, loss, and anxiety. She is an Early Childhood Development Lecturer who enjoys reading Shel Silverstein and Joyce Carol Oates.
Muse in Pocket, Pen in Hand 