wholesome

By kevin martens wong zhi qiang

originally published monday, 26 june 2023

on tigri sa chang​

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Koitadu | Content warning

Please first read about my writing in the Skribadorang or Writing section on the Igleza page here before reading the piece below so you have advance warning about the rather spicy things that I often like to write about, and why I choose to write about them, especially in terms of subverting unhealthy stereotypes about gay people, Kristang people, Creole people, Indigenous people, masculinity, neurodivergence, the body, healthy forms of attraction and sexuality, and using my writing to process the severe individual, collective and inter-generational trauma and abuse I have faced across my life.​

I am always
fresh produce;
all of your vegetables
tenderised into Singapore's brawniest Kristang stew.
The meat is tender,
and oh boy, so is the view
of my heights and your lovely side-eyes;

I know the flower imbues
it all with such a radiant, flourishing life.
The smell of the world's first superexperimental Large Kristang Collider:
a psychoemotional Portuguese-Eurasian kitchen

where you can lick it all off your fingers.
My thighs, I mean,
and my very tight
pride.
And sweat, consolidated
into a dainty, well-balanced, delicate
bicep. Put your chest

on my face. My heart
opens up to
your own fiery furnace.
Heated metal
slides into me. The tray
is heavy. Warm me to the touch
and let me hear you pump the Mundansa into me, one by one, each and every day

of 77,033 years of trauma blended together and given over to wondrous, ultrairidescent glaze.

The sheen of
your shining brow
is tangy on my tongue. The steam is
warm in my mouth
and fun.
And I am
only just a little nasty that way. I like
some left over. Sloppy?
Nah.
Just a tall, sexy creole poppy
who is cute. And wholesome.
And healthy. So good for you,
and the country whose abuses and homophobias you really need to do a better job
of keeping at bay.

And most of all not genetically modified;
this, I finally say, is true, that I am
oh so splendidly and naturally made

of sunlight.
Starshine.
Come whatever new traumas may,
I am made of only the very best bits
of what it means to be so fucking proudly Kristang,
and Singaporean,
and gay.