Jennifer Wong was born in Hong Kong. She has participated in various poetry festivals and readings, including the Man International Literary Festival in Hong Kong. Her poems appeared in several poetry journals in Hong Kong and overseas, including Coffeehouse Poetry, Iota, Cha. Dim Sum, Aesthetica and Oxford Reader. Her debut poetry collection Summer Cicadas was published by Chameleon Press in 2006. She graduated in English from University College, Oxford University, and is currently doing a Master’s degree in creative writing at the University of East Anglia, UK.




Do not talk to trees.

They have deep squinting eyes.
Long stout necks sticking out.
Rough chafing leather.
In the warm house you feel them
Inhaling and exhaling, your old furniture

Or their harmless smiles
In your child’s picture books.

It’s hard to get lost in the woods
Without meaning to.

Do not talk to trees.
At night they dance in ballet shoes,
Tell secrets to one another,
Put on a ring,
Wisdom for every year.


I Remember

Your dreams spilling
From bright red velvet?

When time feels
Free and right as memory foam.
A child puts his best things
Into his delicious pockets.

Curious and curious-er,
We poke and shove our fingers
Into every small crack or hole.

We dare to tilt
Order of anything;
Pluck cotton balls from dolls,
Turning them into clouds.

Remember how to play?


On our special occasion nights out
I enjoy her wonderful knack
For exuding grace
Carrying a toy-like satin pouch
Designed to hold a lipstick.
Her zealousness over the years
To build and expand her troop
Of uniform stilettos and pumps,
Arranging and re-arranging
Her proud kingdom,
Commands my highest respect.
Every time she drove
I longed for a built-in
TV in our mini cooper.
In the wee hours
I spent more time than necessary
Unpeeling onion skin shaping her legs, amused
But unimpressed by sheer vanity.
Drunk but not losing her wit, she teased me,
Patterned boxer shorts,
For flavours I kept
In my top left drawer.