The night takes its form
In stages of still blackness
and inky silence.

Ibu knits by the staircase
squinting in the candlelight
while reciting pantuns;
Abah trudges through the water
with a kerosene lamp
and a yellow umbrella
muttering to himself –

All is still on the water’s edge.
I look out the windows
torchlight in my hands:

Water is everywhere
Lawns and roads
In every house and every car
its murky reflection
placid, unmoving, brown;

The night brings with it
A cacophony of noises:
From the candlelight
A cricket calls to its mate
A bloodthirsty mosquito
buzz in my ear
the gentle patter of rain
on the roof