Birth / Live / Death


i slid out of my mother
through a slit in her abdomen;
howling and slathered in slime,
my father christened my name.


my father told me his father
and him were never close;
i told him that we would be different,
fingers crossed in case i turned out to be a liar.


on his deathbed my father slipped
quietly away to the New World;
was i mourning for the loss of a man,
or for the man i had wanted him to be?

Born, bred, and based in Singapore, Jowell Tan writes prose & poetry after hours for fun and emotional release. His nights consist of writing, rewriting, watching videos on Youtube to avoid writing, and finally, writing again. Please say hello to him on Twitter / Instagram at @jwlltn. He thanks you for your time.

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