We Live Here
We live here.
On the eleventh floor of the hundredth twenty-fifth block,
behind the first black door next to the second grey lift.
The one marked with the crucifix, jesus and the dust,
a little thing we salvaged from our old place
as a counter to the neighbours’ talismans.
One, nailed to their door like ours and
the rest loose on their money plant,
flutters for attention, trying to convert the wind.
Like everyone else, we’ve never introduced ourselves,
or touched hands, or come closer to saying anything than
the slightest hint of our most reluctant smile,
but imagine that the joss they burn on the altar outside,
to their furious God, bearded and well-armed,
with an equal coat of dust
will one day burn us all down.
By Eric Low Soon LiangQLRS Vol. 3 No. 4 Jul 2004