by Pui Ying Wong
On the day when nothing happens
windmills nod in the haze,
cars sprint to the ramp
like mice on running wheels.
In the geometric space between two
arching branches, the sun broods.
Flags fly, face on the monument dims.
Twin lights flash like diamonds
on the smokestack, quick
as the shine in gamblers’ eyes.
A blimp tows a banner saying
enter today and win it all.
Pui Ying Wong was born in Hong Kong. She is the author of a full length book of poetry Yellow Plum Season (New York Quarterly Books, 2010), two chapbooks: Mementos (Finishing Line Press, 2007), Sonnet for a New Country (Pudding House Press, 2008) and her poems have appeared in Cha: An Asian Literary Journal (Hong Kong), Connotation Press: An Online Artifact, Crannog (Ireland), Prairie Schooner, Taos Journal of Poetry & Art and The Southampton Review among others. She lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts with her husband, the poet Tim Suermondt.
2 responses to “The Shine”
enjoyed your poem…I’ll google for more!