Dear Uncle,

Have you always seen the world fragmented
in neat squares
worrying, wondering when
the pieces will grind and slip and render
everything unrecognisable?

Or do you covet the madness of line-free glory?


Colours
kissing meshing pressing
against one another
screaming,
life!
Life.


And...
When Wak Wan swung open your cage
with wild eyes,
is that why you leapt out
your shrieks blending
with the bright, watching colours
of an uncut world,
tearing at his face
your eyes laughing
at all the roaring red?
At all the swaying whispering green?
At the insane ominescent blue?


And... And...
When he shot you dead
did the colours
did the colours
did they melt into you
did they clash
collapse and hum
into a glorious disquiet?


Did you see
dear Uncle,
were you finally free?

















In memory of Boboy, a monkey adopted as a son by my grandaunt. He was killed by my grandaunt's brother who, rumour has it, was on his way to killing Boboy anyway because of a prior unfortunate incident involving a precious stone.