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Indignation as Elegy
An elephant without a face greeted me
on Facebook today,
his trunk and tusks
hacked away by poachers eager for ivory.
At first I thought it was a watermelon
sliced in half,
mistaking the pinkish blood
for the pulpy flesh of succulent fruit.
Why bother to extract excessive teeth
and risk being...
All Fall Down
Anatalia Ayala had promised Bellisima Cua that the story and photos about her winning the Volzhacker Prize would appear in the newspaper’s online lifestyle section this week. These had not seen print in any of the inner pages of the main broadsheet’s news...
Eight Legs Is All
It’s unfair. With small bodies, they move in all directions. Once a leg gets broken—which usually happens when they resist to be caught—they have seven more to spare. No difference. They still move like they used to.
Kuya Ping is one of the tikri...
The King who Had Nothing
“What makes a man a king?” A young pauper asked as he sat on his father’s lap. They sat meekly on the side of an alleyway near the town square, under the shadow of a hill where a majestic castle stood. Amidst the...
The News of You
Briefly, just after college, I left my parents’ house, thinking independence was a priceless thing.
It was worth it, I liked to remind myself, especially on idle Saturday mornings with their slowness, the bread warm and inviting, to be chewed with an amorous relish....
THE FIREFLIES
This tale is for Mark Brownrigg
It had been a strange week in this village on top of the Antipolo hills. The days were cool, and night hid itself beneath a thick, blanket of wool.
But I liked this change in the weather, so different...
