- What if the Easter Bunny’s lips are sewn shut by his whiskers, and those same whiskers are still connected to his face? Would he sit alone in a corner of his padded cage screaming a muffled scream that we mistake for Easter well-wishes?
- What if those are not eyes on his face, but ravenous maws? When those sockets feed on the eggs you bring, shells and all, would the colours crunch down his cheeks in runny rainbow streaks?
- Just when you think it is safe to tear your eyes away, what if the Easter Bunny grabs your hand from between the bars and refuses to let go until you have torn off his matted, bloodied fur in clumps? What if then and only then would he release the vice-like grip he holds over your imagination?
- What if your basket was merely a pretext? Would you still sit outside his cell after visiting hours, popping chocolate rabbits one after another into your mouth just so you could swallow better the truth about what you are?
Loh Guan Liang is the author of the poetry collection Transparent Strangers (Math Paper Press, 2012). His works have appeared in various journals, including Black Heart Magazine, Crack the Spine, Kin Poetry Journal, Mascara Literary Review and Quarterly Literary Review Singapore. Guan Liang currently lives in Singapore.