Missing Her (Fanling Babies Home)

By Antony Huen
 

You’d rather not see me,
since your last departure,

encapsulated in sepia,
constituted by knit,

paisley, and the smell
of your tea.

I mouthed mom,
your lips stiff and pursed.

You turned around,
stumbling up the stairs

to the secret chamber
in my rented flat.

*

The stamp you left me,
the tiara,

its silver rusts
like my tongue.

I wonder which colour
of the rainbow

she is wearing
to the funeral.


Antony Huen is a PhD student at the University of York, where he researches contemporary poetry in relation to visual arts. His recent poems have been published in Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, and he is one of Eyewear Publishing's The Best New British and Irish Poets 2017.