By Datoyes Tan

Morning Cat

His stripes has been replaced by bands of fluorescent sunlight
Looks for the weeping bird under the chair, finds only roads
So looks again, inside the lion's stomach, inside the cartwheeling jets
Amber eyes are drenched in gasoline tears, set on fire
The sun commits arson, over the rooftop pools, the steaming coffees, the kaya toasts
Cat tears off his fur with his tongue, dons a cape, then leaps
Into all the liminal spaces, now blazing

Lineage Portrait

She stumbles through the catacombs,
Searching for pieces of her land's fragmented bedrock
the picture books read to her by the wind sweeping 
across the thronging towers of sleepwalkers
which princesses and warriors and explorers are now diluted in mistranslations,
as tresses of her mother's last gift to her is snipped into ashes
White ghosts of the people who abandoned her grandfathers on killing fields
claw at her with their stolen artifacts, away from her birthplace, 
trees that had once sung the old songs to her are uprooted, forgotten

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