Daryl Lim Wei Jie (b. 1990)
SELECTED POEMS
Ann Siang Hill
Derelict, it is hard to know
where the wall ends and where
the twisting palisade of tree roots
begins. Tangled like a braided
Medusa. Clenching like
a senile despot on his
crumbling throne. Foot-soldiers
of shrub and weed creep forward. There is
design here but it cannot
be easily discerned. Across,
the backs of shophouses form
a fortification of their own,
chalk-white except where flecked
a paintless grey. Staircases curl
upwards to a pretense of turrets.
Those are some pretty ceramic
murder-holes. Caught in paved
no-man’s-land, I fear the earth
also has redevelopment plans.
by Daryl Lim Wei Jie
from A Book of Changes (2016)
