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Loneliness is to give the body to the self who will not keep it.
Ahgong is an atheist. Watermelons cut, cubed.
The closest thing to supper he could afford.
For a dollar fifty cents, such a big bowl.
Cheap faith, the little bit saved,
my face resting on the rind, scraping.
A half-circle, teeth sunk into a smile.
Outside where got? Church was Teck Ghee food centre
every Sunday. Fish splashed, slippers dragging across floor,
parting of a sea of singlets, salt-caked
is love, quiet
chopping board, knife. Today I buy
the watermelon sweet and juicy
or not? Is it fresh? Flesh of the land, sweat of the farmer.
Soil and skin
I do not know. Here is delivery, not deliverance.
When I brought him to college, vigil lights strung
around the dining hall. Offerings spread
in trays, slick steel.
So much can finish meh?
Ahgong put down his fork.
I took a plate of watermelons
for ahgong, ahma, myself.
Yeah of course can. At home you also give
one big bowl that’s how I learn to eat.
The caterers clasp their hands.
Do you want more?
No need, enough already.
At home not so much,
Teck Ghee food centre is a hawker centre and wet market in Ang Mo Kio, Singapore.
See Wern Hao is a freshman from Saga College. His works have been featured in QLRS, Toasted Cheese Literary Journal and We Are A Website. Last seen holed up in a poorly ventilated classroom hiding from deadlines and life. If found, kindly return to bed with copious amounts of cheesecake or ice-cream.