© Mavis Cheung
MONG KOK
忙/忘 mong4 kok—we forgot why we are in such a mong
state that we are okay
everyday we dash for the
cash. was it our 夢 mung6? you don’t even have a kok
this is not mung kok,
mong kok,
惘/妄/網 mong5 kok – we are stuck in the kok a big corner but we are in separated mong
kok,
kok,
kok…
there is no
reply gets filtered by the mong keep
roaming, we stay at the same point don’t imagine leaving mong kok
望 mong6 kok—we are at least allowed to mong kok,
look at the front we see us being,
stuck and trapped by people
look up, how small we are
look down, sore neck but we choose what we see
partially.
*Cantonese:
忙/忘 mong4: busy/ forget
夢 mung6: dream
惘/妄/ 網 mong5: frustrated/ delusion/ net 望 mong6: look or hope
kok: transliteration of 角 in 旺角(Mong Kok), means “corner”
Mavis Cheung on “Mong Kok”: This poem is inspired by my observations of Mong Kok, a district in Hong Kong that I frequently visit. Known for its vibrant atmosphere and as a hotspot for young people seeking entertainment, it simultaneously unveils a myriad of harsh realities that many locals face. The poem highlights these underlying struggles and subtly mocks the bitterness of life for Hongkongers. By code-switching between Cantonese and English, it creates a relatable narrative for locals, reflecting our unique cultural identity. Ultimately, this piece serves as a way to document the cityscape through our beloved mother tongue, Cantonese.
© Mavis Cheung
MIASMA
They said they are coming, but they said they aren’t coming.
I knew they would be coming, maybe later;
the breeze blows gently from the north,
pointing to them, of course,
to us. The wind was pungent but I try to
inhale—any difference?
Yes.
Some of us are still there like
the smell. I am too heavy to run
over there. They told me not to hurry,
but I have to go before they wash me.
A bridge in the park is perfect for me—only
if i am not overweight.
Bags, clothes, shoes,
lips, cheeks, brows—
I put them aside.
Am I sure enough to cross
the shaking bridge?
What if the bridge falls…
Miasma is coming.
Reddish. Smoky.
Take a last deep breath and step
onto the bridge; chained,
it shakes as the wind howls
piercing, but not as the miasma,
fatal, poisonous, but blown.
And will never come again.
Mavis Cheung on “Miasma”: I was inspired to write this poem during a walk along Victoria Harbour on a foggy night. The buildings loomed in the mist, their outlines blurred, while the sky glowed in shades of reddish-gray. This captivating scene stirred a multitude of thoughts within me, prompting a desire to capture the moment in poetry. The poem is filled with vivid imagery, inviting readers to step into the persona’s shoes and feel the mysterious miasma surrounding them. By doing so, I hope readers can explore their own interpretation of who “they” might be, allowing for a personal connection to the experience.
All photographs (header and main text) by Mavis Cheung.
How to cite: Cheung, Mavis. “Two Poems: Mong Kok and Miasma.” Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, 30 Oct. 2024, chajournal.blog/2024/10/30/miasma.
Mavis Cheung was born and raised in Hong Kong. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in English with a focus on Creative Writing from the Chinese University of Hong Kong. A passionate poet, this publication marks her debut in a public literary collection. Through her poetry, she strives to capture and reflect the unique landscape of her city, conveying its vibrant spirit and complexities. She is thrilled to share her voice and looks forward to bringing more of her work to a wider audience in the future.
Cha 