CONAN TAN

Bait and Switch 


Thrice now I have come close to hot-wiring the
                        sun from God. What a selfish 
            bastard. Refuses to let me win 
even a consolation prize. I used to think 
                        pinball machines were about skill 
            but now I know God, like my father, 
has a favourite child. 
                        Life’s unfair, deal with it, he would say 
            like he wasn’t the one dealing me threes 
against his ace. 
                        I’m petty I know. I’m a Leo. 
            It’s written in the stars. 
I’m a good lover (debatable), 
                        loves drama (he got that right) 
            and confident in myself. 
That’s funny. The last time I tried to pull 
                        a heist, God saw through me immediately, 
            said there’s a reason he created 
a universe filled with stars 
                        that only has one son.

Fieldwork 


                              Afterwards we saw         the-grass-bundled-in-hugs  
            snow white sheep in the distance         and haybales, a hummingbird / flutter
                        the heart’s a flutter        a bed of (squashed) pumpkins        big enough  
   for time to fall into place            oh I’m falling into you  
                           the green gem of backyard        boyhood memory / mammary  
            and a cow beyond our field        of vision-dream-slit-of-time-gosh-just-look  
      at-the-time           a month is only a month if we decide it is        (and it’s been a month of)
                              running                    wasted so much time afraid  
                        to be soft          like dew             when even storms  
come out of hiding         the cow was just hiding for time to         seek come here, let’s   
      leaf / behind                  footprints for nature to follow past  
                                                            that long river of fenceposts    shhh not so loud  
                     go softer               on my lips     like you’re (holding) a rare pearl  
        because you are / because i am                        let’s-cross-over-to-the-other-side   
                                                into possibility 

Conan Tan (he/they) is a queer Singaporean writer. His poems have been published or are forthcoming in Rattle, HAD, Beaver, The Shore, West Trade Review, Quarterly Literary Review Singapore, and elsewhere. Their debut poetry manuscript-in-progress on queer love, trauma, and healing was shortlisted for Sing Lit Station’s 2023 Poetry Manuscript Bootcamp. He matriculates at Oxford University this fall. Say hi to them on Instagram and Twitter @tmyconan!

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