By Bee Bee TanWhen we died,I finally gave birth.It was then the villagers called mePontianak, roaming vampire.My baby on my hip,I ride the wind;farmwives and children quiver.When the sky is wrung greyand heavy clouds hang low,it is my day to runthrough the village by the river.My baby whines.We are blood hungry, thirsty.Leaves whirl in wind,and long nipah palms clash.From the throes of birth to
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