Three by Euginia Tan


i passed by an

accident scene

on my way to ballet.

each time i leapt

trying to twirl in mid-air

i would land, ankle crooked

wondering how

the bloodied dead bodyskull face

soaked in red

would appear

en pointe

pirouetting in the middle of the road

where his spectators

would stand awed

even more so than at the presence

of lazarus

who rolled boulders away

while my corpse bowed clumsily

on the rough gravelly stage

that took his breath away

and made me feel my age.


i know there’s something in that drink you just handed me


as i am wont to

wantonness and

prone to sudden spells

of suddenly lubricating

my cheap underwear lined with lace

i will gladly drink up and let you do whatever you deem fit

there’s a whip in the boot

cuffs under my pillow and

a policeman uniform hidden at

the very back





she told me she

had dreams and grand schemes

of successfully murdering

her baby sister one day.

this lanky young girl

with gaudy motifs on her shirts

her chest still flat and face too flushed

from pre-adolescence.

this lanky girl no heavier than my little finger

telling me repeatedly

over and over again

how she would brandish her knife (from the kitchen

where i watched her just make me lunch;

spaghetti with mushrooms, tomato, chicken thigh.)

and stick it in the soft

jelly-like folds of her sister’s gut

letting the thrill of the first stab

course through her own scrawny frame first

then giving in to rage

two, three, ten and twenty

deliberate well-administered strokes

of her weapon of choice.

she says all this with relish

her wiry braces glinting

winking at me as though daring me

to be her partner in crime.

By Euginia Tan

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