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
heart
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
