How to tell you I heard you the first time? To tiptoe
into here, then nowhere: what it feels like to tread
in the shallow waters; to eat the indignity together
so much like a fish slowly drowning as it dies. No
golden dust at the bottom. We’ll peel our skin off as
we leave, that hard shell of prawn that we’re too
picky to eat. My entire family peers into me through
the glass panel at the bottom of the boat. I am
unborn still, so I forget how to perform.

Natasha Siji is a 22-year-old web designer, currently studying Arts Management in Singapore. She writes extensively about declarative memory, as well as her experiences living in Singapore, China, and Indonesia.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.