Natalie Wee is a queer Peranakan community-builder. She has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net Anthology. Born in Singapore to Malaysian parents, she is currently a settler in Tkaronto (Toronto).




Natalie Wee

White Men Call You a Dirty Immigrant but Comic Books Call You Vagabond

— after Ocean Vuong The first & most complex alchemy you learned is a horizon made heaven by standing under -neath it. The sky is only blue splintered by telephone wire into light that touches water as if hands to fill with mercy. Your father taught you this. Even now you watch him ascend outcropping rock, his shoulders encased in discount denim from a NZ thrift shop, decades before you were born. His fist warms a silver band, which is all that tethers him to an exit. Just out of sight, everyone he loves exhales the future. He thinks they call this pier after the act of watching flood turn family into relative intervals. You’ve been 12 hours away for 2 years. Your father’s shadow measured in footsteps. The faded denim you wear to remember. You know horizons foam the same distance no matter where you stand. You are always missing your family. You are always missing your family. You wear your father's pelt & bequeath your mother's hair to every place you were alive. Some nights you forget your pillow is not her hand.




Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.