11

Dear Poet,

Almeria
i have grown to love
writing fragments-

the feeling
of being naked
with words and
unrestricted
utterance

they free me-

a frail wild cat
wandering
with nine lives
chasing
my instinct

my solitude
purring-
wanting to be heard
in the loudest
of my silence

I know no
chief ruler
as I am my own
Master,
my servant

but i favor
the fancy feeling
of flaunting
my muted
words

when I
scratch
my own
fragments
onto mid air
Bars

22
staring at the blank page

Almeria
creating contours
of words,
imagining images
grasping, getting
a touch of a thought

blue merges
with the light above me
creating a color
and a faded fermata

scratch the savages

of guilt grudging
somewhere, sober
in the silent sanctuary
of spaces
and horizontal lines,

breaking bones
crunchy carcass
of dead syllables
now, knock
slide beneath the boundary
of leaping letters

wail, words, wail

deep, dark and screaming
sail, sail
fading beauty
painting the dark
sky of pain

lead me
possess me in your name
gather my meandering madness
at the center of the page
as you encircle,
(caging
me in a poem)

Workshop
 33
I sit at the center,
the red metal stool

Almeria
carries my weight.
the girl in blue stares
me down with tiger eyes.

I face the other side,

drag the stool
as it screeches, and bites my skirt—
sounding like my thoughts
of repulsion

The teacher shouts,

“What’s the central image?”
the girl nods,
not once but twice
as the man
hammers
my poems
on the table.

I face them both,

carrying
my own weight

he hurls my paper
up in the air,
Our eyes witness
as my words
fall
like loosened
leaves of a tree

Rumba
Every night I do the rumba

44
my hands
crawling,

Almeria
feeling, caressing the flesh-
gratifying experience
to my
embittered
soul

I scratch my hands
unto my naked flesh
inch by inch by inch
gradually
I thrust,
I drag myself-
a heavy walking step

Stepping with my toe first

a box step,
side break
and underarm turn

I swing my hips
smoothly
and subtly

Quick, quick
slow
quick, quick
slow

I love to do it in the shadow

with the faintest glow

Death Fantasies
just last night i went to a coffin maker

55
to ask for a casket reservation,
he asked me the size i would prefer

Almeria
i chose to have some adjustments,

there i dreamt myself

lying inside my casket,
wearing mother's white Sunday dress
people peeking at me,
hearing their eulogy
and cold teardrops hitting the casket's glass

there i dreamt myself

in eternal rest
freed from his arms and fist

there i dreamt myself

becoming my own Cinderella
beautiful and adored
with red lipstick
concealing the scar
on my lower lip

there i had my lovely little things:

pin cushion,
empty bottle of perfume,
a wilted white rose,
and an open-face
pocket watch
still
keeping
time
 66
Almeria

Cold Wind
Cold wind hits the shore

77
Waves recoil in their sadness
Ocean’s solitude

Almeria

Undertow
He was sitting on a white chair
in a deserted cottage on midday

88
as I stood behind him

Almeria
and we witnessed the leaves
of an old mango tree
falling outside-
the cold wind gently brushed our bodies

he told me
I was the most beautiful coquette,
then pulled my hands to his chest,
my fingers were trembling
as though they were wilted stems
i tried to undo his grip-
but he was strong,
his arms wrapped around me vise-like
and his kisses-
engulfing, devouring

he pushed me to the white wall,

his hands on my breasts as he hooked me,

as though angry waves were penetrating,

biting the white shore and recoiling
rush,
smash,
dash,
and crash

I gathered myself
in a cold embrace

as his haunting shadows,

his breath echoed off the wall-

my tears,
a crumpled 500 peso bill,
and a crimson dot on the floor

Anniversary
Last night, i prepared the room for the two of us,
fresh red roses arranged on the side table-

99
beside the bed,

Almeria
scented candles warmed the room,
sweet music serenaded the night
and “Romantic Desires” perfumed the air

but i fell asleep like any ordinary night.

He arrived the next day,

almost five in the morning

the entire room had died out,

myself along with
my longings

“Happy hour with the boys,” he said.

I whimpered like leaves tossed in the air

“There will be better days,” I said to myself,

Last night was a gift

I shall offer instead to my little angels,
and to myself.

I gathered the melted wax,

the wilted rose petals,
stood in front of the mirror
and saw my face—
an acrostic

Amakan
gibunalan niya si mama ug amakan
na among ginatahi
 ug ginalukdo kung udto

1100
sa ilalom sa kasulaw sa adlaw

magarasan sa taliwis nga grano ang among kamot

Almeria
sa mga higayon nga nagatahi mi ug amakan

Ang uwat nga murag bulak

kay nagalakra sa braso ni nanay
inig uli ni tatay
nga hubog
(wala namo nahurot ug baligya ang amakan)

Miadto si tatay sa luyo sa balay

mikuha ug amakan
aron pambunal-
Dira ra siya muundang
Inig maputol na ang sukdap
Ang dugo mitulo
Kauban sa mga luha ni nanay

Naghuna-huna ko nga itago ang amakan-

Aron muhilom na ang kagab-ihon

Usa ka buntag samtang wala si tatay

Nag-istorya mi ni nanay,
“Ubanan taka ‘nay aron ipang baligya ang tanan nga amakan”
“O, gikapoy nako ug tan-aw anang mga butanga”

Ug gilukdo namo ang nahibilin nga amakan

Ug gisuroy namo sa mga balay-balay

Nagpadayon mi ug baktas
maski gikapoy na among mga likod,
nipadayon mi ug singgit

Wala nami nakamatikod kung asa na mi nakaabot-

layo nami

Nabaligya na tanan ang amakan

busa wala ni usa sa among tunob
ang muhatod sa amo

Muuli si tatay
nga wala na ang mga amakan,
iyahang anak,
ug iyahang asawa

Amakan
he beats Nanay with an amakan
that we weave
and peddle around until noon

1111
under the blinding sun

the blades cut through our hands

Almeria
while we weave the amakan

the scar, shaped like a flower

blots Nanay’s arms
each time Tatay comes home late,
drunk
(we failed to sell everything)

Tatay goes to the backyard,

takes an amakan
to use as a whip
he stops
only when the amakan breaks
blood falls
along with Nanay’s tears

I want to hide the amakan

and silence the night

one morning, when Tatay is not around,

I confer with Nanay
“I’ll go with you, Nay. We’ll get rid of them.”
“Yes. I’m tired of looking at those things.”

and we peddle the rest,

selling from door to door

we walk
until our backs hurt
we call out to every house
until we are hoarse

we do not mind
where we are,
just that we are far away

we have sold every single piece

and not even a single footstep
can take us back

Tatay will come home

to discover the amakan,
his daughter and his wife,
gone

Translation by Maureen Devorah D. Ronquillo

Tunô
Gikablot ang gipikas nga lubi
Ibabaw sa lababo-
Ang unod puti, gahi

1122
Gikulob ang lubi,
Nilingkod , nibilangkad

Almeria
Gipatung-an ang ulo sa kaguran

Gihinay- hinay ug kagod

sa gikapoy nga mga kamot
Ang gahi nga unod sa lubi
gikudkod,
gikudkod,
gikudkod ug samot
hangtud mitulo ang singot
sa iyahang dughan
paadto sa iyahang uranay

Busa nag padayon gihapon ug kagod

Hinay
hinay
Paspas
Ug Hinay napud
ug usab

nahurot na ang mga lubi ug kagod

iya na kining gipuga
hantud ninggawas ang mga duga

gikutaw kutaw
ang sabaw sa gata

ug wala na kini magunitang lubi

gi sabyog ang gikagod paadto sa iyahang
ginasagod nga manok
ug hinay hinay ug trapo ang gata
sa iyahang buhok
mitulo ini nga murag singot-
paadto sa iyahang dughan
ngadto sa iyahang gipatung-an
nga ulo sa kaguran

Coconut Milk
she grips the coconut in half
over the sink –
the white meat, hard

1133
she turns it over
and sits legs apart,

Almeria
on the crest of the coconut grater

scraping slowly,
with her tired hands,
the firm meat
scrape
scrape
scraping more
until the sweat trickles
down her breasts
damping her dress

and she keeps on scraping

slowly
slowly
quickly
and slowly
again

when everything is scraped

she squeezes the meat
until the sap gushes out

she gently stirs

the coconut milk gently
until she can only feel the liquid

she tosses out the dried flakes

to a flock of chickens
and pours the milky fluid
over her hair
it trickles like sweat
down her breasts
down between her legs
where the coconut grater rests

Translation by Maureen Devorah D. Ronquillo

Distant Love
For P

it is
 1144
the space

Almeria
between

the

middle finger

and
the

ring finger

and the

v x
e e
rt

that connects the two fingers

At Night
Alone
Inside my room-
I curl

1155
writing my wounds
writing my verses

Almeria
to my audience
whom I
haven’t
met

I keep my verses
With me-
Until I run out
Of ink
Until the images
In my dream
vanish
like mist

still, i write
until
the light
of the moon
keeps
illuminating
half of the darkness

Morning Rituals
I always wanted my classmates
to be the first to notice me
and greet me with their innocent smiles,
I would have wanted them to tag me
in our game called labolabo--

1166
but mornings were not what I expected.

Almeria
Every day he would wait for me like a servant.
When I rode a jeepney
he would sit beside me,
his cold fingers creeping on my back.

One day he asked me,

“Would you like to come with me?
We’ll go biking,”
and I went with him
like any child.

We walked along the sidewalk,

his hands on my shoulders—
I felt I was protected by my loving father
until he squeezed my arm hard
and I felt a shudder in my loins

we sat together,
his hands
exploring and stroking
my hips;
I wanted to run
like a rookie—
stealing home

Kite

Reaching the rainbow, Chasing the wind

Soaring like a willy wagtail
and To the distant sky-
sailing Cut,
up, Swerve,
up, Cut
like the curve-
 1177
Almeria
as
you
pull
me
and
heave
me
like
a
stifled
Kite