A big house is a small house

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Like a shoebox cramped with preserved

Fragments of quite a life lived by—the letters

From a childhood friend, puppy love remembered

A ribbon, the first book gifted, cookie wrappers


Like a matchbox—emptied, cleaned and feathered

Cushioned with small cloth and with some litters

Of breadcrumbs, compartmentalized with cut boards

To make room—apartmentlike—for your spiders


Like that dark small corner inside your bedroom

Where you pushed wardrobes to make space—at least

A decent one—draped a jaded curtain and your mother’s

Old dress—hear ye! here ye is thine kingdom of a boy king!


Like the shell thrown off to the shore by the sea

A gem in a mound of pebbles and sun-soaked sands

Pure—gleaming like a new satin over the altar’s box

Invoking one to peek through that meager opening


Like an old bottle sealed with a dilapidated cork

Sailing religiously with ebbing waves replaced with few more

As tides and tides shifts with the dying—rising sun—

A circumstantial ship listlessly abound somewhere


Like this house, the very house where the roof leaks

Over mighty chandeliers decorated with webs and laces

Of dusts, where the wall hangs souls of once lives

Have walked through the winding corridors, the welcoming


Lobby with where each steps echoed with a booming

Remnants of life becoming—became—has been

Making foes with years, making friends with shadows

A big house is a small house liHouse



A keepsake—of things repressed, remembered,

Discarded—a universe of scattered heavenly things

A labyrinth of pain dutifully kept—the heart already

A small house, saved what little space for your coming

©2019, Buhi, Philippines









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