Ancey

Poem

By Cheryl Tan

I.	I never knew you. I wish I did, otherwise it wouldn’t be so sad. Who were you? Did you squeeze out the sun with a squint of your eyes, drip out its light in a glass full of morning? Did you live with the sigh of the earth in your wake, a limp in your gait, a hard lane?
II.	Who did you love? Were there any cherry kisses from a teenage paramour, milk teeth from a sibling half your age? Were there any possessions you cherished? Was there a mother, a brother, a God you lived through? Who loved you?
III.	Where are you going? Where have you been? Did you see all the places you needed to see? Dust on feet, fractions of skin, fictitious shots at dreaming. Could you send us a postcard from where you are now? Everyone would love to see it.
IV.	Could we have been friends? Could we have been partners? Could I have known you in some other way? God made the universe curious. What made you stay in this world for this long, skimming the sides of existence within? What, would you say, survived you?
V.	I never knew you. Why did you leave? There should be a proper way to mourn this. The purpose of art is a grand preservation, but there is nothing I have that will keep you right now. Perhaps if there was, this poem could be better. That’s what makes it all so sad.

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Cheryl Tan (she/her) is a Singaporean poet. A Free Flash Fiction Competition and Singapore National Poetry Competition winner, she has been published in fifth wheel press, Parallax Literary Magazine and Streetcake Magazine, among others. Her work has been nominated for the 2023 Pushcart Prize, and her chapbook “Goddess” is published on Querencia Press. She is also a long-suffering EIC of Project Inklink's Litmag.