The narrator tells us, his voice
calm and quietly fascinated:
in nature certain species of wasps
that stun their prey into submission
for an egg to be lodged
in the flesh, turning them into mere
When the offspring begins
to participate in the cycle, the host
But until then, the host
lives, its destiny
paralysed against its will.
You see, my love, the venom
isn’t fatal; that is
And this waiting
for your return, for the desires to flow
again, is gratitude
for the sting
that turns the living into meat, on which you feed.
By Zhuang Yisa
Zhuang Yisa lives in Singapore. His poetry has been published or forthcoming in Sargasso (Puerto Rico), Yuan Yang (Hong Kong), ditch (Canada), The Toronto Quarterly, Ganymede, The Los Angeles Review, Softblow, Danse Macabre, The Salt River Review, Shampoo and elsewhere. His poetry has also been anthologized in Ganymede Poets Vol. One (Ganymede Books, 2009) and Smoke (Poets Wear Prada, 2009).