by Chua Han Au

the wind blows coolly, like a soft whisper

Take it slow she said
the nights where you coerce yourself to sleep
are gone, like lint in a dryer

let the wind take away the strife
go back to poetry and classics
listen to her melodious voice over the radio
be exultant

Take it slow — I am trying to win myself over

Give me time as I try
to obliterate
the insinuations received through dreams
to extract
the apprehension drilled deep
to gain
the momentum of writing,
and finally welter
in its profound melancholy.