KIN

a snake’s shedded skin
paper bag thrown over your head
daffodils beaming at the window
every once in a while
lives slithering in a small living room
genetic hypermobility
surnames and half-names and dead-names
rivers changing with every body that enters
we used to share one heart she says
can’t you feel that now?
mixed-up underwear folded neatly
hamsters eating their own newborns
acts of tough love
bloodlines and landlines and dead signal
praises because you still call once a week
pictures of meals that go unfinished
larvae asphyxiated by their own shells
i love you
she promises in her head

Author of the article

J.Y. Tan is a law student from Singapore. Her work appears in Salamander, Lunch Ticket and Rust + Moth among other journals. She was the winner of Singapore’s national Golden Point Award for English Poetry in 2025. She was also a participant of the Iowa Young Writers’ Programme, and has been nominated for Best of the Net 2021. Visit her at jytan.carrd.co.