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Four Days in Singapore


by XXXX


I've lost something at sea
and am at a foreign island to find it.

It is a reflection on porcelain,
some beautiful monstrosity. 

Here maps do not say, “You are here.”
They say, “Here is everything else.”

I went on a boat ride 
seated next to the absence of a boy,

who snuck in my backpack
between my pants and socks. 

It is hard to lose
what you do not have. 

I've travelled from a land
where history robbed us 

during the night of the world. 
History has just arrived here,

after a long lingering lull
its waking yawn

is a stream of water
from the merlion's mouth.
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