Writing is a throat exercise. I hear
you echo in the shipyard and paint
cranes, curved like chicken claws,
in yellow garish. Same shade of sick yellow
glares from naked filaments, taboo
illuminates months of sweat-filled thighs
captured in stamped poetry to forgotten addressees.
Dreamland is a redlight waste
basket brimming with scribbled dreams, scripted
and burned by Singapore’s stinging sun.
Al Lim is a rising sophomore at Yale-NUS College. Part-Thai and Singaporean, he studied in Sydney and South Carolina, before serving National Service as a Military Police instructor. He is currently president of the Southeast Asian Society and INK: Literary Collective in Yale-NUS.