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I was raised in endless songket voices,
hornbill clatter, gibbonsong, storms
and durian fall. None have followed
me here, the city with a jagged quiet
habitually quenching itself on my sleep.
Don’t worry

your lonely heart, no other insomniac
notices me in the neighbourhood
Kwik Dobi, open 24 hours. I have my ways,
and never a mood to weave conversation
with physicals. If I close my eyes
and drift

on the slosh and throb, damp slop
of garments midwived from steel drums,
the mutterings of sunburned hearts
in tongues only I could touch,

I’m not so far from home.
I could be home.



May Chong (@maysays on Twitter) is a Malaysian poet and speculative writer, with previous work featured in Eye to the Telescope, Anathema Magazine, Apparition Literary, and Fantasy Magazine. Her poetry has also been nominated twice for the SFPA's Rhysling Award. Away from the keyboard, she enjoys birdwatching, spoken word, video games, and the worst possible puns.
Current Issue
3 Oct 2022

Lying in bed last night I felt fingers reach in, grabbing. I opened in spite of myself as you clawed me with your fingernails, flattened, panicked. Split throat, iron tongue, white masks ranged overhead, the rings on their fingers scraping me as they reached in to take you.
from my tower we climb, shroud as my veil. We leap on his fae steed
I tell smug Cyclops that I’m as gay as the next mutant, and that all mutants find themselves within battles
Get ready to feel hungry, because the theme for this quarterly roundup is food.
Friday: The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo 
Issue 26 Sep 2022
Issue 21 Sep 2022
Issue 12 Sep 2022
Issue 5 Sep 2022
Issue 29 Aug 2022
By: Cat T.
Issue 22 Aug 2022
Issue 15 Aug 2022
Issue 8 Aug 2022
Issue 1 Aug 2022
Issue 18 Jul 2022
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