I fed two takal of rice
Into the newly washed pot.
Scooped water for rinsing.
Fumbled, stirred the seeds
Of Tatay’s perspiration.
Spilled the milky water.
Poured out slowly until it subsided.
I saw Nanay outside
Retrieving the laundered clothes.
I remembered what she uttered a while ago:
“Noy, when will we be lifted
From this poverty?
Again, ginat’an shall be our breakfast tomorrow.
When could you rinse rice again?”
Amorseco
Though the sun has just awoken in the east,
We two already get up
To saunter along the paddy bunds
Until we reach the river bank
Where we tethered Kabaw.
Whenever you untie the rope,
I would cling on to your shirt at once.
Whenever you let Kabaw wallow in the bog,
I would grab your forearm–
To your ire for I am coward.
When we return, the sun already glares above
And those memories linger.
Like amorsecos, they cling on–
Hang on to my shirt’s hem,
Grip on my mind’s fringes.
Steps away from me
Faded have become the flowers
That I offered you.
But my memory is tinged still
By your lips’ crimson.
Anyhow, I hope
You gather, keep
Those faded flowers
Besides the thorns
Between the pages
Of your mind.
Cold has become the scalding coffee
That I made for you
But in my heart stays
Your breath’s warmth.
True, because anyhow
I shall sip, slurp
This cold coffee
Up to its dregs
At the bottom of the bitterness
Of your smile.
Yes, for even rose thorns
Tickle the pain away.
For even coffee dregs
Quench the thirst away.
Hence, worry not.
Go, tread on, walk away.
For I shall just booze this longing.
I shall just nibble on this wistfulness.
For all that alight, take flight.
For all that are abandoned, move on.
Hence, lament not
For I’m already used to hearing
Fleeting steps
Away from me.
