By Silvia Suseno
too late at night we are
perched in front of a washing machine
you are giddy with boyish glee about how it spins.
the whirling colors,
the clink of zippers,
the soap glistening and churning.
on the linoleum tiles,
under the terrible fluorescence,
it is all so brand new.
after, the room is dark
and the city lights
spill out at our fingertips,
and there you are,
whispering partly to yourself
and partly to me,
the brightness of life engulfs me, wholly,
the whole world disappears and bursts
into existence at the same time.
in the breathless joy of this quiet pause,
flight of fancy sort of fatal flaw,
hesitantly, perfectly, it astounds me.
Silvia Suseno, currently a student at Yale-NUS College, is a writer who aims, with the cadence and nuance of each word, to capture the most fleeting moments and emotions. She was involved in the pilot run of Project LIVEpress by Ethos Books, which culminated in her poems published in the anthology Unhomed in 2016. In 2018, she was a finalist in the Science Chronicles. She was also awarded the merit prize in the Edwin Thumboo Prize 2020.