You voted. You signed. You agreed.
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This poem is about a man, Mr. Tan.
My neighbour.
He has the key to my apartment.
He says it’s to help me with emergencies.
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The lift
On our corridor.
Always breaks down.
No one notices because they travel.
Mr. Tan has their parcels.
He waters their plants.
Checks on the residents.
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He knows who’s in…
And who’s not.
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Then –
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Shoes.
Slightly moved.
The window was closed just now.
The towel – wasn’t it folded to the left?
Folded to the right now.
See the fridge door through the window?
It’s not shut tight.
A WhatsApp message from Mr. Tan.
“You forgot to turn off the stove.”
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Nothing was stolen.
Nothing was damaged.
Nothing to report.
👨🏻🦳🔑🚪👀📱📄✔️
Mr. Tan passed by.
“You weren’t sleeping well last night.”
“Your living room light was on.”
“Instant noodles are bad for you.”
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Just…neighbourly concern.
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I talked to him.
“How did you enter my home?”
Mr. Tan showed me a document.
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The management retains access.
It can conduct checks.
It can conduct inspections.
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Mr. Tan is its representative.
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I voted for him.
Thanked him.
Even gave him the spare key.
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This poem is about privacy.
About permission.
How safety can become intrusion.
Mr. Tan holds the key.
So do I.
👨🏻🦳🔑🚪👀📱📄✔️
I gave it to him.
👨🏻🦳🔑🚪👀📱📄✔️
Original poem by Michelle Liew Tsui-Li. AI tags are coincidental.
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The Getting Literal Writing Alcove 