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Tapping At Glass
Tapping At Glass
Tapping At Glass
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Tapping At Glass

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Tapping At Glass charts girlhood, multilingualism, and psychogeography from Hong Kong to Scotland. Myths, meditations on the arts and mass media, and migration stories entwine. Through protest-stricken urban spaces, love hotels, farming as activism, frog watching, alternative therapies, and seascapes where racial and social memories flow in all directions, the working class subjects in Cheng's poems reflect on what it means to exist in one locale and dream of elsewhere, where the past and future, interconnectedness and othering, are in perpetual negotiation. Tapping into various moods, Cheng's poems question the making of a self and a city, and the languages one uses to translate microhistories.
Tapping At Glass is Tim Tim's debut pamphlet collection.
"Tim Tim Cheng is a wonderful new voice in the poetry landscape. Playful, serious, complicating any attempt to pin her down – even in the short span of a pamphlet she dances through images and ideas. Already so accomplished, she is definitely a poet who is going places." – Niall Campbell
LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 11, 2023
ISBN9781913917777
Tapping At Glass
Author

Tim Tim Cheng

Tim Tim Cheng is a poet and teacher from Hong Kong, currently based between Edinburgh and London. Her pamphlet Tapping at Glass is forthcoming with Verve in 2023. Her poems are published or anthologised in POETRY, The Rialto, Ambit, Cicada, Our Time is a Garden, and elsewhere. She has spoken in transnational literary panels across Asia-Pacific regions, the States, and the UK. Her latest appearances include the Hidden Door festival, and Loop, BBC Scotland. Named ‘one of the seven female poets to know in Hong Kong’ by Tatler Asia, she is also a William Hunter Sharpe Memorial Scholarship awardee, WRiCE fellow, and Roddy Lumsden Memorial Mentorship mentee.

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    Book preview

    Tapping At Glass - Tim Tim Cheng

    cover.jpgimg1.jpg

    PUBLISHED BY VERVE POETRY PRESS

    https://vervepoetrypress.com

    mail@vervepoetrypress.com

    All rights reserved

    © 2023 Tim Tim Cheng

    The right of Tim Tim Cheng to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

    No part of this work may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, recorded or mechanical, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

    FIRST PUBLISHED FEB 2023

    Printed and bound in the UK

    by Imprint Digital, Exeter

    ISBN: 978-1-913917-29-6

    ePub ISBN: 978-1-913917-77-7

    CONTENTS

    Bathtub

    Like the Earth, I Become Hotter and Hotter

    Icarus, a girl, talks to interviewers

    Beds

    SHE WILL

    Boyfriend for Scale

    Beginner’s Wall, Shek O

    Clouds and Clouds

    Shockproof

    Topography

    How Memory Works

    Reiki

    News, Nocturnal

    Since Marina and Grace brought me white roses,

    NOTES TO IMPOSSIBILITY

    Field Notes

    Salt and Rice

    Boxed in

    (H)ours

    In and Out

    The Tattooist

    Froggos, froggone

    Waterlogged

    intertidal

    Horrible Kids

    How do you spell [         ] in Chinese

    Ars Poetica with Translations

    NO LANGUAGE

    Self-Portrait of My Granny in the Voice of Anti-Japanese Drama’s Protagonists

    Kindergarten

    Sonnets with Skylines

    Notes & Acknowledgements

    Tapping

    At Glass

    Bathtub

    The most pressing question today

    is why your head

    fits right onto my shoulder.

    The rest is soap! soap! soap!

    Like the earth, I become hotter and hotter.

    (I starfished in your bed last night, you said.)

    Have you seen one of those square starfish?

    They look like a fucking wallet!

    What’s star-shaped anyway?

    You can’t outline explosions, can you?

    (I pushed you out of bed, you said.)

    Sounds like your problem.

    Icarus, a girl, talks to interviewers

    after The New York Times’ feature on the second Chinese female astronaut

    You asked if I was afraid of the sun

    melting my eye makeup.

    I had waxed enough to know beauty burned

    and some places were better left

    untouched—questions, like ingrown hairs,

    trapped under the skin in the wrong direction.

    My father named me after my brother

    but never made

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