The End

The End

No one knows

what they will

sing at the

end.

I’ll most likely

need a drink

(Cheers, A!), but

since I

won’t know it,

I may not have

time to break open

a bottle I’ve

saved for the

end.

Or, maybe, it won’t

even be a song.

Maybe the time

will come and

there will be no

singing — maybe

it will just be the

pointed intention

of the buying

a sack

of rice and the

giving of it to

the community

pantry next

door.

Perhaps, there will be

a level of

astonishment

as things like

the sun

and the moon

and the sky

make one last

appearance

before saying

goodbye.

Or, maybe, I will

take your hand,

no actual singing,

just my heart

attempting a

note it has

never heard

before,

a color it has

never seen

before,

a poem escaping

from my fingers,

my mind,

my lips,

as the darkness

slips into

our ships,

there,

at the

end.

Image: Jeff Siepman of Unsplash

April 30, 2021

The last poem this

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 30

For A

and after Mark Strand’s

The End

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/.../the-end-56d2306e43cbd

In Between

In Between

Sometimes, large

swaths of time

are lost in

queues,

listening to

the elevator

music of

call centers,

waiting for the

truck to arrive,

watching

furniture,

holding the pen,

holding the form,

holding the phone

as it burns

your ear.

Anything is

better than

this.

And then

you come

through.

And forget

this eternity

the next time

it comes

around.

Image: Martin Lostack of Unsplash

April 29, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 29

Blue Sheep & Other Mysteries

Blue Sheep & Other Mysteries

You teach me

the basics of

pusoy dos

(as I take

notes)

and, tonight,

you ask me to

watch Dawn of

the 16th with

you.

I don’t know

I’m out of

time

until I glance

back at you

and realize

we’re almost

shoulder to

shoulder.

I tie your

hair back in

a topknot

like when

you were

one

and count

out the

years.

I’ll listen to

unlimited

Derivakat, Bub.

Just save me

a seat by your

side.

Image: Screenshot of Blue Sheep on YT

April 28, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 28

For B

Folding

Folding

They say that

it is an

art.

But which

one?

Forward, with

knuckles pressed

near my toes?

Wearily, back

bent over the

sofa, dividing

socks and dish

towels into

thirds?

Hands in

the air,

conceding an

unluckily

dealt

hand?

Making wings

out of

paper?

Inside,

within all

the kinds

of creases,

capitulation,

and

concealment,

a release,

a sigh,

some

relief.

Image: Kelly Sikkema of Unsplash

April 27, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 27

The Details

The Details

I trace the line

of your cheek.

I wonder if I can

still do it,

commit your

face to

paper.

I don’t take

my eyes

off

you.

I guess

that’s really

all it takes.

Pure drishti.

The rest are

lines and curves

and color.

The key is

seeing you

just as you

are.

Image: My drawing (partial watercolor) of C

April 26, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 26

“Albert Einstein put it best: The intuitive mind is a sacred gift, and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.” - Betty Edwards, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain

Dear Son

Dear Son

I know you’re

not sorry about

breaking that glass

in anger,

but the dishes

don’t choose

you, nor does

the laundry,

the trash,

the broom,

the dust

pan. You

choose

them.

Maybe it’s

because, now,

you’re still

too young. But,

one day, you’ll

sneak in a

scrub of the

grout before

you shower, just

because you

can.

You’ll tell

her you love

her by the

number of

times you

rinse the

dishrag.

For now,

take a

breath.

Close your

eyes.

I make

no distinction

between you

and your

sister.

I’ll let

your heart

be the

arrow,

whatever

the mark

may be,

so you’ll never

have to keep

a record of

chores.

Image: Jacek Dylag of Unsplash

April 25, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 25

1 Corinthians 13: 4-8

Post-Apocalyptic Strawberry Shortcake

Post-Apocalyptic Strawberry Shortcake

The things we will

miss the most: coffee

brewing, dinner dates

at our favorite

cafe,

newly baked

strawberry short-

cake still waiting

to be served, jazz

playing in the garden,

fairy lights

strung across

a tent,

our friends

and family,

well and

at home.

Who knows

what it will be:

a meteor, a variation

of this very pandemic,

the sun burning

too close, or

the tides rising

too fast.

Already, two

years ago

feels like a

decade.

What sweetness

there is left,

I’ll take

it.

Image: Mine (strawberry shortcake at Cafe Ysabel)

April 24, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 24

This Friday

This Friday

On our anniversary,

you cooked chicken

gyros and attempted

to bake bread

(I bought dinner

rolls at the

neighborhood

store, instead).

We forgot

to take

pictures.

I cleaned

the toilet bowl

and washed

the dishes.

You gave me

the last bowl

of ice cream

and we walked

the dog at dusk

with our daughter

when it was

nice and breezy.

We saw a

whole tree

with white birds

roosting, like

so many blossoms

from afar

and forgot to

to take pictures

again.

Afterward,

all four of us

played

a word game

while eating

leftovers and

we laughed

so hard.

There is nothing

more in this

world that

I want.

Image: Bon Vivant on Unsplash

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 23

April 23, 2021

Entangled

Entangled

Even when

the heady

days are done

and the light

isn’t so

dramatic

I sink back

into the steadiness

of your hands

and my constant

rearrangement

of your slippers

by the

door.

You are a

singular

attachment

in this

samsara

plane.

Transcendence

is for

tomorrow

as I greedily

take in

the circle we

make

today.

Image: Mine (beach photo, 2003)

April 22, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 22

Laundry

 

Laundry

Is up there

with death

and taxes

and you take me

through it

patiently.

In this case,

I’m just

the brawn.

“This is how

we do it,

Mommy.”

I’m glad

for the

reversal,

glad for the

smell of

clean

clothes,

glad for time

with you

as if

this is a

leisurely

walk

at dusk.

Image: Annie Spratt of Unsplash

April 21, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 21

One Hundred and One

 

One Hundred and One

There are

some days

that speed

past me,

I hardly

recall a

moment.

Except for

that tiny

detail.

“Will you

play with

me?”

And I said,

not now.

And out of

a hundred

things,

I know

it was the

one thing

that

counted.

Image: Volkan Olmez of Unsplash

April 20, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 

Light My Way

 

Light My Way

“Take my picture,

Mommy,” she says

because the light

is pretty at sunset

even if she has

a mask on.

“And I want

Sparta in it.”

So, there they

are, framed by

the river and

the lights.

A long time

ago, you must

have taken

that picture

of me with

a Pekingese

whose name

I’ve forgotten.

I was never

far from

my favorite

spot, by

your

side.

Evening star,

the light-years

will pass

and one day,

you, she,

and I

will intersect

in one

glorious

space.

Images: Mine.

In memory of Mommy, on her death anniversary.

April 19, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 19

Mood music: Iris by U2 

Neighbor

 

Neighbor

There is no lack

in this world

other than the

ones we invent

or the ones

we create

in our with-

holding.

A very long

time ago,

our baskets

were always

full and

our neighbors

in plain view.

These modern-

day boxes and

dividers are

of our recent

making.

When we belonged

to the world

(and not

the other way

around),

there was no

such thing

as need.

Even the birds

know this

and any

living thing

that belongs

to no

one.

The world

said, “Here,

take what

is offered.”

And it was

up to us

to know

what was

enough.

Image: Mine. We gave away children’s books and toys to our neighbors today.

April 18, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 18

Also, I am so inspired by the community pantries springing up all over the Philippines. ❤

Inhuman

 

Inhuman

Things hum

around us

all the time,

a veritable forest

of sound,

generators,

light bulbs,

electric fans.

We don’t really

listen because

they aren’t

alive,

right?

And further

out, in a similar

vein

of thinking,

we don’t really

need to listen

to cows,

chickens,

pigs

because

we don’t

meet

face to

face.

Image: Ant Rozetsky of Unsplash.

April 17, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 17

Piece of Earth

 

Piece of Earth

In the past week,

two people have

told me about

their dreams of

a farm — or

at the very least

a small vegetable

garden.

It reminds me

of our trips to

Tanay, buying

powdered turmeric

tea in the shade

of a small

bamboo hut

where they also

sold fresh milk

and lettuce.

We cannot visit

anymore and

I have never

grown anything

green with

my hands.

It is so bitter-

sweet to peg

this to the

someday wall.

We all know

it doesn’t

exist.

Tomorrow,

I’ll walk

by the river.

At least

I have

that.

Image: Sigmund of Unsplash.

April 16, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 16

Ring

 

Ring

We circle back

to this sore

spot, over and

over, finding

myriad, bare-

knuckled ways

of saying

what’s

wrong.

We get so

creative,

we forget

the

point.

Look,

I’m in

your

corner.

Give me

a hand,

not your

fist.

Image: The New York Public Library on Unsplash (Louisiana, 1938, Photo by Lee Russell)

April 15, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 No. 15

Transylvania 1982

 

Transylvania 1982

Sabrina dies

at dawn and

this was my

mind blown

at our basement

after my father

brought home

a family

computer and

a colored TV.

The Atari Combat

never did it

for me. But

this was

the one

that I could

explore for

more than

an hour.

I don’t remember

if I ever saved

her. But looking

back helps

me see the

dimensions of

exponential

change.

Even my

children

will never know

the thrill of

pressing a key

to continue.

Image: https://datadrivengamer.blogspot.com/.../game-196...

April 14, 2021

#NaPoWriMo no. 14

Tanuki

 

Tanuki

I stand for mischief

and play and

change.

I stand for fortune

and luck

by your

door.

But, mostly,

you will not

find me

at all.

Like all things

you touch

and turn

into

symbol

I belong

in that other

world

where

brother fox

and sister

bird don’t

know

what they

cost.

Image: (Glico Tanuki) Reinaldo Kevin of Unsplash

April 13, 2021

#NaPoWriMo no. 13

Koinobori

 

Koinobori

Dear ones,

we’ve given you

the longest waterfall

to climb. I saved

some gifts

in my pocket

but I think the

ones you will

most need are

the ones you will

give yourselves.

We will not see

the end of

the Yellow River

with you.

We send our dreams

to swim in your

shadows.

Rise golden,

bear no weight,

for certain

not ours,

as you go

swift,

as you go

far.

Image: By 663highland, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39795378

April 12, 2021

#NaPoWriMo no. 12

Wonder

 

Wonder

Is this really

the same place?

We moved a few

things here and

there. We threw

a lot of things

out.

Things,

things,

things,

find their

own places

after our

hearts

are made

up.

Image: Mine

April 11, 2021

#NaPoWriMo2021 no. 11