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,

                           cannot compare.


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.


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