By Pluto Mehan
because we are young
and we are sinners, and i have only ever been
what you make of me
By kai foo
take my eyes for hors d'oeuvre, pick them off a tray.
peer at them and they’ll peer back with curiosity.
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
By Eleyn Yap
The universe expands
A trove teeming with resources
Determined by a satellite's ray
By Nina Anin
The translator doesn't work. It says my great grandfather was a pirate,
when he was a swordsman/doctor who carried lion heads across the continent
By Maegan Tan
because his right hand unsteadily clutches the wheel
while the other is intertwined tenderly with grandmother’s
hands, these rusted rings embracing
then, and now
By Durva Gautam Kamdar
the next train to the ghost realm wouldn’t leave till the sun rose again, he realised. and he was hungry. so, so hungry.
By leandre huang
the rain is her liquid love, it slides
down her sides, it seeps into the crevices
of their listless hearts, it blankets her children
By Kimaya Bhuta
the little girl, she sang to the screaming sky, hardly through the rubble,
stars made of bombs, sparklers of salvo, her memory made of dreams.
By Cheryl Tan
Oh, Singapura. Singapore. Sin-ga-pore.
In the folds of Becca D'Bus’s costume there is an
Island sunny and free, set alone in the sea.