dear love, i touched the bamboo cage today i
dreamt your body inside of it persecuted upright.
the thing about bamboo it is supposed to bend to
one's will bound with wild grasses it embraces a
man's body allows his subtle aspirations he must
sleep upright during typhoon season he would
drown otherwise he sleeps cicada lullaby and he
forgets he is a prisoner of godless places
dear love, i touched the bamboo cage today
remembered malakas and maganda tapping from
inside the pliant stalk emerging from its
splintered form bathala sent the bird into the
world she heard a noise lipad maya dagat araw mar
y sol shouting rocks and wind
i am confusing my creation stories but my point
is these prisons must contain might and beauty
storytellers have told me so much depends upon my
believing them
dear love,
you dream in the language of dodging bullets and
artillery fire. new, sexy diagnoses have been
added to the lexicon on your behalf (“charlie
don’t surf,” has also been added to the lexicon
on your behalf).
in this home that is not our home, we have
mutually exiled each other. i walk down your
street in the rain, and i do not call you. i walk
in the opposite direction of where i know to find
you. that we do not speak is louder than bombs.
there are times that missing you is a matter of
procedure. now is not one
of those times. there are times when missing you
hurts. so it comes to this, vying for geography.
there is a prayer stuck in my throat. douse me in
gasoline, my love, and strike a match. let's see
this prayer ignite to high heaven.
Copyright © 2006 Philippine American Writers and Artists, Inc.
