I let down the paper blinds from their resting place
on the handles of the top windows.
Lying in bed next, I listen
to the crinkle of the loosening paper,
the cracking of its joints
in a long stretch after slumber: beginning
as the crackle of a bonfire; diminuendo
to plops of a turtle’s air bubbles on a pond surface;
ending on an endless pianississimo
of sporadic drips of dew into damp soil.
Music to my ears.
All the while an ache tugs at one side of my stomach
from routine indigestion.
I’m grateful for it, for it balances
with the enjoyment of the ears.
If enjoyment is whole, the purity becomes unbearable
under threat of impending ruin.
Something I’ve learnt about bliss.
Vanessa Ho is a Hong Kong-based writer, currently editing and writing for a local English newspaper. She holds a Master of Arts from the University of Chicago. Her work has appeared in Imprint, The Apostrophe, Eksentrika, and Adelaide Literary Magazine.