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is licking the translucent mirror; reflection of nodules
on my post-menstrual face. A Pan-Asian queen’s voice
of profanity and agony with no makeup on, rubbing
the guitar fret with her fake Manchurian fingernails,
like I’d imagined a voluptuous blonde fingertips sliding
on my Best Friend’s naked torso down to his swollen member.
The night before my Best Friend and I are about to fuck,
his queen-sized bed splits into halve due to wear & tear
just like my mother’s tear duct flushed to dryness,
forcing me to finish a plate of fish n’chips, while
the nurse wheels my father’s body into the elevator;
a new mother stood beside me, breastfeeding her newborn,
demanding for words of congrats. Her expression changed
when I showed her my father’s rigor mortis posture.

I ask my Best Friend to bury my alter-egoistic heart
after each beautiful fuck. He kisses my third-eye,
my brain’s heavily pumped by the balance of Tao,
the living and the dead, the fluidity mass of Adam & Eve.
Tonight we cook blood curry & dead white potatoes,
baking marmalade cakes, overloaded with poppy seeds.
His family’s prayer unable to cure their insomniac slumber,
by the time he’s sowing horny seeds into yours truly
under the papaya tree of futile pistil, stamen and leaves,
the twin-flame ashes succumb to the danger of self-love.
At the stroke of midnight, my Best Friend exhumes
glowing seeds and my fluids inside a banana tree flower,
burying right next to the adolescent papaya tree,
I named the spawning experiment Bianca Jayne,
after the initials of our favourite foreplay.



Deborah Wong was born in Kuala Lumpur and raised in Subang Jaya, Malaysia. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Crack The Spine, East Jasmine Review, Streetcake Magazine, The Stray Branch, Eksentrika, Thought Catalog, Ricepaper Magazine, Rat's Ass Review, Seagery Zine, Liquid Imagination, and other publications. While working on a fictionalised memoir and revising a stack of stories, she also collaborates with an emerging Australian artist in an artwork-poetry crossover project on Instagram. Follow her on Twitter @PetiteDeborah, or on Instagram @deborahbie.
Current Issue
22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
...
Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
The little monster was not born like a human child, yelling with cold and terror as he left his mother’s womb. He had come to life little by little, on the high, three-legged bench. When his eyes had opened, they met the eyes of the broad-shouldered sculptor, watching them tenderly.
Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
For a long time now you’ve put on the shirt of the walls,/just as others might put on a shroud.
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