WELCOME TO OPUS LITERARY & ARTS MAGAZINE
WELCOME TO OPUS LITERARY & ARTS MAGAZINE

Trimmed branches bleed ice, Gray grass murmurs, discontent. Clouded dome white weeps.   Rippled water Reality distorted. Walking back from class.   Small in a big pond Standing at a puddle’s edge Sees upside-down world.   Branches together Pointing, reaching, kissing tips Like cathedral doors.

I pause and rewind the Tiktokker, his hands dicing an onion paper thin. There is not one hiding among the murasaki sweet potatoes I am saving in the corner of the chipped pantry shelf, shallots substitute. They hit the skillet with a sizzle, the pale purple ghosts around the pan on a slip n’ slide

THE FACES BEHIND THE MAGAZINE

By Fara Ling Ah Ma,        A few weeks ago, I realized I have never written Ah Ma a letter. That means I have never told Ah Ma I love you. There’s no way to say it in Hokkien, Ah Ma’s mother tongue. Forcing the syllables wa ai lu to sit next to […]

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