The Fox Fairy
Appearances are deceiving.
How do you know I’m not
one of those women,
You know the kind –
ones who take husbands –
then slip out at night
to run in the fields;
dew wet and odorous
after the passion,
to hunt for mice.
How do you know I don’t
relish the crunch of small bones,
the death snap,
the warmth of raw meat.
They’ve always said
Fox Women have long black hair,
and never look in the mirror.
How do you know I mightn’t
have a fox mate in some mountain lair.
His instinct cannot tell him
I am fey.
His – is the innocent way
of courting this tawny piece.
A moon maiden dancing in the dew.
A woman with secrets.
(published in Voices from the Underground, an Anthology of Malaysian Experience)
for Dana Roskey
My pert, blonde upstairs neighbour Angela
asked on that summer’s day, if she could bring
her mother’s sister, her Aunt Boudicca
who just at that hour, was visiting
from Berkeley, to our shared barbeque.
Aunt B pounced immediately, skewered me
for daring to serve some chicken to you:
the man who received a teriyaki
drumstick from my small honey golden hands.
I had brought Feminism to its knees,
I was a disgrace to Gloria Steinem
as your fantasy of ‘servile Chinese’.
Silenced, I made her tea for the liver,
respecting her age, I served that to her.
(published in Domestic Cherry 5 in support of the Poetry Swindon Festival)
Pey Oh is studying for an MPhil in Creative Writing at University of South Wales, UK. Her work is published in Cha, Magma, The Readings, Domestic Cherry and elsewhere. She is also a streetphotographer, capturing a moment in visuals instead of words. See her work on Instagram @msiagirl. Twitter @msiagirl