by Vincent Wong | Mar 14, 2017
Gizzards, Dust and Daddy by Natasya Ismail The last thing Bapak ate before he died was a plate of greasy, deep fried gizzards with a place of steaming hot rice. Malik could lucidly remember his father’s last meal because he had admonished the aged man for...
by Vincent Wong | Mar 14, 2017
mirror, mirror by Ilyda Chua i. princess, you wear the words they spit like strings of pearls around your wrists and neck. foolish and frivolous and fucked over and fucked up, they spit, and you take those words, press them to your skin like an iron brand, ...
by Vincent Wong | Mar 14, 2017
The Neighbor by Kimberly Tong It was the last thing they expected to find in the kitchen. “Hey kid, you put this here?” Natalie’s accusatory finger swiveled from the floor where the thing lay greeting her, to her brother’s lanky frame stepping through the door....
by Vincent Wong | Mar 14, 2017
“Home Movies” by Nicolette Koh I roll a tape, of memories in scene takes: Stranger in the dark, but no longer in the night She comes to play drawing across a body canvas “I am here to stay,” she says. So gently she sways, the curvature of my ocean wave Wide...
by Vincent Wong | Mar 14, 2017
Night on the trail by Tran Thi Van Trang Hoa hugged the block of dynamite close to her chest. With each heartbeat, the explosives felt alarmingly warmer against her green army blouse, and she muttered a curse at her own imagination. Crawling on her knees and...
