As I wrote last month, my poems "A Sense of Loss" and "Habagat" appear in the magazine's issue for the week of November 5, 2012. Posting them here:
A Sense of Loss
The body is a cruel thing
wise, like the spirit,
like that little voice within
that whispers of odds
something is changing
yet, while the voice can be silenced,
senses are always acknowledged
much like how, before rains,
my skin crawls as though beset
by unseen ghosts, passing.
Yes, the body knows,
but it doesn’t understand
there are things
we just don’t want to know.
You are the same
but I can’t ignore how
your skin on mine
has become an annoyance;
your voice some noise
that disrupts my reading.
Somehow, I’ve returned to days
when it didn’t make a difference
whether or not someone waited
or met me at the door
and what of this dizziness
frequent tremors
haunting migraines
fever and tasteless tongue?
It feels much like grief
but right now, I don’t have to
put a name to it.
Things are going so well
and we still have a movie to catch
this Saturday.
Habagat
Jesus walked on water
when
the rains hit
we
walked in smog-gray waters
that
rippled over our knees
I
imagined I was San Pedro
but
all I did was slosh and wade
Genesis 8:7-12
we
never got home
mudwaters
rose higher
than
the riverbank trees
we
were being punished
the bishops said
what did we do this time?
my brother is down there
I cried for forgiveness
On the third day, he
rose again
people
reciting the Creed
while
I ate noodles and sardines
in
the tomb of the Cruz family
they’re
keeping the ghosts away
but I worried more for my brother
nowhere in this shelter
has he joined our many friends
previously buried by Ondoy?
Revelation
they said you’re nameless
rain
or flood isn’t good enough
to
remember you by
but
I’ll always know you
by
my brother’s name…
still
missing. still missing.
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