As I write, my heart aches – a pitiful phrase.
Unwittingly, I dreamt of African vultures
And photographers, hanging from the rafters.
You see, the horror is not what’s happening now,
But in what occurs thereafter.

Within my chest, I still keep a canary
For you – and every day, it sings the same, dreadful dirge.

Filed under: Poetry


A member of Singapore-based writing collective /stop@BadEndRhymes ("/s@ber"), Valen dwells in the swamp of poetry. He has been published in various publications, including Anxious Poets Society, Eunoia Review and Quarterly Literary Review Singapore. He has performed his work at the Arts House, the Singapore Art Museum, and in various dingy bars.

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