by Jeremy Fernando

Who is he, who are they, to write a book about me?
Who is she, who are they, to try to draw me?
Having not quite seen —
the Wakersaur, whom you’ve never even glimpsed —
me who might now just let you see;
Ms Phang, Mister Seah. [1]

You two who try to understand,
even explain — oh my — the mysteries
of sleep; of why we wake.
And even worse, to little children; the
only ones who me, might have seen; the only ones
who actually see. Who always had
the chance with me to speak. And who me
only forget — have forgotten me —
the moment they grow.

Who also then forget one
cannot know what — even less,
when — one has forgotten. Perhaps
too much time in the sun have they spent;
avoiding shadows in caves,
but standing instead
in them. Lunar amnesia.

Go to your children — ask!

And remind you they might;
perhaps not of what was gone —
that they cannot. But perhaps,
of what might have been.

With your feet on the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
But there’s nothing in it
And you’ll ask yourself
Where is my mind? [2]

And as for you who make
this picture of me — this shall
I leave you.
Sleep I have not — for
the Wakersaur am I — and
none shall you too.

For — to be drawn,
I is not —

Notes:

[1] Shervin Seah & Candice Phang. Meet The Wakersaur. Singapore: Inkee Books, 2016.

[2] Pixies, ‘Where is My Mind?’. Surfer Rosa, London: Rough Trade Records, 1988.