robertson quay

by Jonathan Chan

how does an afternoon turn
on its axis? in the slow draining

of froth, eyes fixed on a verdant
trough, and then the glow of

tessellated paper, wrapped
around a luminous purple, green,

and blue. the sculpted bowl against
a flattened sphere gasps that things

are out of joint, beside it, a collage of
air and flattened toys. perhaps it

says less than we presume, fingers
wrapped under the swell of

raindrops, the surging river
beneath Pacita’s fabulous

bridge. an afternoon turns
into evening, folding in the

stillness of old and new
affections, the thickening

passage of every minute.

Jonathan Chan is a writer and editor of poems and essays. Born in New York to a Malaysian father and South Korean mother, he was raised in Singapore and educated at Cambridge and Yale Universities. He is the author of the poetry collection going home (Landmark, 2022). He has recently been moved by the work of Kevin Young, Ang Shuang, and Alfian Sa’at. More of his writing can be found here.