I was seven
a war marred my hometown
Tíyo and the fishermen
soldiers
the deep sea
battlefield
a compound
of the sea’s little bones
of sable sands
in a wicked bottle
their arsenal made
the Earth mumbled
in tremulous waves
the heavens bled
scales
of shattered souls
to the flesh of my innocence.
2024
What do you want to say
to a year yet to explain itself?
The days are heaving,
the hours a diary made meaningful
with our ghosts: gray, tenuous,
prone to our forgetting.
Just tell me something new.
Or describe to me freedom
as an animal. Show me skin
moistened by worship,
waterfalls like...
So this is how most women die, she learned, lying in pain on the floor of the main hallway at the governor’s palace. Forgotten.
Her dress—once a beautiful, cream-white, sequined Filipiniana in the style of the former first lady—had been torn almost into shreds,...
May this poem be heard as a testament of Amorsolo’s “History of Philippine Music” and his artistry.
Winds already touched the glistening sails
of a boat that bears the shadows of
blossoming antiquity
Playful noises coming from the grasp of the lips,
Lines withdrawn in the psalms of...
Dr. Marta was seated on a stool in the Recovery Room writing her notes on a patient just transferred from the Delivery Room. Suddenly, she heard a sound coming from the unlit Labor Room-A just across the hall. The air was silent, empty,...
A covenant was made.
You trod on my soil.
You breathed my air.
Here, tonight,
I am having dinner.
The hall would have fit in
Many exuberant guests,
But I only see myself
And my toddler’s chair.
The table is set.
Cutleries in their neat order.
I sniff the folded serviette.
It is your very...