POETRY*

Emergency Ward  In this mad-house Suddenly erupting about me Of orderlies running with trollies, T-shirted young interns, Bloodstained cops And screams, I look up and keep hold Of the one certain thing: My daughter’s hand.     In Praise of the Singapore Satay Club  This place in not a loved one to watch yourself in front of but a friend who makes no claims. Spicy fires, chattering clerks and students, with a singing, swallow-filled tree, a short walk from anywhere…

Sorry, you don’t have access to this content. Please log in or email [email protected] for help.