Holiday Cruise

Cyril Wong

This is the first time you realise
you can leave him. And you do,

backing out of the room
on a wave of panic to end up here

on the deck, seeing waves
ache to a stillness, as he survives

that long moment without you.
That he may never understand you

frightens you completely. But
this could be the very thing

to overcome, after which the alloy
of love between you may

toughen, even densify. Already,
the sea is pressed to a sheet

of blue-green silk. An island
steals into view like the future,

sliding out of the horizon
like a bather's kneecap. And you

cannot wait for this to end.

First published in Prose Ax

Postcolonial Web Singapore OV Singaporean Literature Cyril Wong

Last modified: 3 September 2003