By Nina Anin

The family at the reunion dinner is a rebrand of bluetooth
White tooth maybe, but it’s rotting in a drawer, not telling stories at the river
About straits shaped like dragon teeth: long ya men, dragon-toothed gate
It can only exchange compliments with unstable connection and antiquated updates,
Bogged down with most code written in the wrong language,
language that the programmer sung forgotten songs in
Because compliments are the most exciting stories they can tell,
swayed by arguments between the matriarchs, debt between the patriarchs
They left the table after the six-hundred-dollar urn floated up again,
arranged with the other nameless dead in neat rows and columns and floors
On the floor the children fiddle with cartoons, ignore
the sudden document dispatches, misdirected to unsuspecting doe eyed infants

Nina Anin is a writer from Singapore. She enjoys studying history and math, but is at a loss regarding what to do with her future. While she loves the city, she wishes her afternoons can be quieter. Right now, Theophilus Kwek’s Moving House and Alfian Sa’at’s A History Of Amnesia are on her reading list.


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