Debbie Lim



The Schnee Stone

He brings it home one ordinary afternoon, cupped in his hands like a fresh piece of hail. When he rolls the rock between his palms a fine precipitation sifts down, barely visible, and the air between us crackles, falls several …

Posted in 107: LIMINAL | Tagged

The Skeletons

Strange to think they live within, mimicking our every mundane move. There are those who believe they would cease to exist without us: with no flesh to hold up, organs to cradle, unsheathed of all practical purpose. But perhaps it …

Posted in 106: OPEN | Tagged

The Pool

New York, 2011 Grief, they say, has four steep walls cut from black stone. Water sheers off the sides into a giant pool: the edges milk themselves violently towards a hollow centre. The level of water is sunk so low …

Posted in 60: SILENCE | Tagged

To the Fugu

I cannot see her tonight I have to give her up So I will eat fugu – Buson   To kiss you is to mimic your own stunned face: small-mouthed, teeth slightly bared. But you refuse to flirt, giving nothing …

Posted in 50: JACKPOT! | Tagged