for Piang Ngaih Don

she feels the redness of
her wrists, familiar with

the kiss of cold grilles,
welts smarting from

the splash of cold, the
shudder of an open

bathroom, the slow
spread of bluish patches.

perhaps she will dream
of her son, between the

battering of fists and
metal, the scalding of

shirts and skins, hair
falling out of place. closing

her eyes, she sees him
and everyone else. glazed

in moonlight, she murmurs
her love to the stars.

Jonathan Chan is a writer, editor, and graduate of the University of Cambridge. Born in New York to a Malaysian father and South Korean mother, he was raised in Singapore, where he is presently based. He is interested in questions of faith, identity, and creative expression. He has recently been moved by the writing of Tse Hao Guang, Rodrigo Dela Peña Jr., and Balli Kaur Jaswal.

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