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by Pamela Yuen

Cover Image by Michael Yull 


by Pamela Yuen

Published April 9, 2021

My mom-friend calls me

from a blue moon bath:


Her babe’s grown

wings. Fingers warped,

& withered into meat

hook talons. He beats

round the house

like a starved, colicky



Just now—


He’s crashed through

the kitchen. Snatched

up the four-slice toaster.

Falcon dive drops it,

hot in the bathtub

right between her legs.


He wasn’t.       Pammie.          Listen.


It wasn’t plugged in. He didn’t plug it in.

That has to mean


Doesn’t it?


Pamela Yuen

Pamela Yuen was born to Hong Kong migrants in rural Ontario. She is an expressive writing facilitator with the Toronto Writers’ Collective and serves as an executive member of  Canadian Authors – Toronto . Her spoken word can be heard through Brickyard, an audio/visual hub of Brick Books.

She is on Twitter: @peameala

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