At the Hawker Centre

An elderly couple sits down at my table.
Because I might be asymptomatic,
I eat faster than usual and try not to make
conversation. But when the husband
stands up to buy lunch for his wife,
he looks so much like you decades from now
that I almost stand up to help him, presumptuous
fool that I am. And continue to finish
my plate of whatever, wondering if both of them
still touch each other in bed, if the wife
could carry on after her husband had died
and for how long. The woman asks
if what I’m eating is delicious. Meekly,
I nod. And tells me she’ll try what I’m having
next time. I agree that she should.
She gazes off into the distance at her husband
coming back, balancing a tray of food, and again
I do my best not to fly from my seat
to take the tray from him and carry it all to her.

Cyril Wong is a poet and fictionist in Singapore. His last book of poems was Infinity Diary, published by Seagull Books. His poems have appeared in Atlanta Review, Poetry New Zealand and Poetry International.