I reek of ash and rust
It falls and settles-
Your hands leave iron gifts
Make my papier-mâché your pincushion
We lie tuned to the same frequency
Dancing on telephone lines
Fixed broken fuse boxes electrocuting to life
Thunder only reminds me of static words
Continue reading “Hollow Bones”
I wish you weren’t so damn charming
I wish you had shifty eyes and red flag habits
I wish you were ugly.
I wish everything you said or did was a signal for me to run as fast as I could.
I wish your sense of humour was more out of phase with mine
I wish I could stop keeping my hands free just in case you want to hold them
I wish I would stop liking guys who will never fall in love with me
Continue reading “Wish”
This piece is two poems in one, starting with 4-Act Tragedy, followed by Requiem for a Fuck Buddy.
Performed at Blu Jaz Cafè for the Hit Refresh Poetry Slam, organized by Word Forward. Performance found here.
Continue reading “4-Act Tragedy | Requiem for a Fuck Buddy”
And you are afraid that I am not staying forever
Even though nothing is forever
And I am too small and naive
Too full of wild dreams
To settle down with forever
Continue reading “An Afterword”
Tonight you will walk home hand-in-hand with Kentucky Fried Nonsense instead of me.
You will hold yourself close and wish I was there with home-cooked clarity
And Kentucky Fried Nonsense will be the first meal you’ve had in two days.
Continue reading “Recipe For Clarity”
When you fall in love with a witch
Rose petals and quartz points,
Clasped hands and incantations,
Whispering spirits in a tiny bedroom
Wide enough for the entire world
And the universe with it.
I need nothing else.
Continue reading “No More Love Poems”
Pictured above: My Father, who kept loving me when I forgot to love him.
Performed at the Foodrama Poetry Slam 2017, Organised by Word Forward, at Blu Jaz Cafè.
My dad never understood why I hated eating kueh. I spent 7 years forcing kuehs down my throat, long since learning that resistance was futile.
I used to run to my dad for a hug the moment he got home. My dad called me a little “Tau sah piah”, because those were my favourite words for a while.
I wonder what happened to those years. I haven’t eaten kueh in a long time.
Continue reading “A Pocket Full of Kueh”