dry
split in the desert, & them
teeth-shaped scales.
pick, loose
scabs, bits of white
blazing virginal summer
i hack
& only bile comes up
i hack,
& pluck open a fruit.
in the backyard, dog foams at lip
bound by a collar i am bound by collars
cuffed round my ankles, round my mouth
dogged picking.
soft, flesh
dry as the sahara
and by god, the rattle of a
whip in the distance
cottonmouth– a venomous
snake found in south-
eastern united states; also a
medical symptom
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Ally Chua is a Singaporean poet. She works in the communications industry, and writes when she's not replying emails within seven working days. She is the 2019 Singapore Unbound Fellow for New York City, and a member of local writing collective /s@ber. Ally has been published in Quarterly Literary Review Singapore, Cordite Poetry Review, and SingPoWriMo: The Anthology 2018.
An avid solo traveler and reader, Ally finds inspiration from a wide variety of sources, including her travels, Richard Siken's words, the lyrics of Brian Fallon, and zombie video games.
Website: www.ally-chua.com