singaporean housewife

Swirls of brown, a crown
for a head less glorious than — its crowning glory;
stuffed with 4D, Toto and free manicure vouchers.
Do you, now, discriminate her
as she fixes your dinner
by microwave,
nestling your baby in her arms
while you push one wrong button too many
on your brand shiny new handphone between your palms;
the one you bought with her hard-earned red-light money?

I Am Still Awake

There is a thing called sleeplessness
and there are things that

shuffle
in the night;
things that go bump and things that rustle.
These things make the slightest of noises
but I hear them all because it’s -
quiet.

I hear the breeze that passes over my head,
its cold sweep leaving me stiff,
numb and helpless under my sheets.
I hear the ticking of the clock, each minute
nagging at me to sleep.

I hear the rustling of pieces of paper left
stranded on my desk,
pieces of my unfinished business.

I hear it all,
because it’s - quiet
now.
I hear it all because I am
awake.