Queen of the Night

The floor was a pool of tears.

The crimson liquid

of sticky water from my eyes

seeped into the deepest

pigments of my

skin

Pepe

 

It was Sunday, not a day but rather a gap between two other days.

 

It is raining hard outside, so hard that Pepe could not hear his shallow pulsating breathing. He is sitting at the right end of the couch while his dog is sleeping on the other end.

Memoirs from the Jeepney

When I was small, my everyday routine was always confined in my mother’s idea of “keep right.” Everytime my mom would fetch me from school we always rode jeepney. Upon stepping in the jeepney, she would carry me until my feet could reach the floor, people sitting inside would hold my arm and guide me. My mom would follow me after she’s done folding her umbrella. I usually search for bigger space for my mom, and if there is no space for the two of us I would just sit on her lap.

She

When I was small,

we joined a field trip together.

`

We passed through the

shadows of tall trees,

then she sat on the

grass, stretched and yawned.

`

She combed my hair

while saying do’s and don’t

on my face.

Behind Rusty Bars

It was Friday afternoon. The rain had just ceased and a dark cloud was hovering in the sky, a little ray of light slicing through the clouds signaling sunset. Amon walked along a street bustling with people, sidewalk vendors of various items, beggars and vehicles racing on the nearby road. His left hand balled beside the matchbox inside the pocket of his jacket while hiding a cigarette on his right hand.

His feet brought him to the gate of San Pedro Cathedral, where more physically challenged beggars, balloon vendors and stalls of saint replicas slowly packing their items. A fat, old woman on a wheel feeding pigeons with corn caught Amon’s attention. Her hair was short, it is more like a boy cut hair, and almost all white. She was wearing a floral dater while a red cellophane filled with corn sat on top of her lap, and she was holding a tin can on her hand, with meager coins, despite the fact that she’d been there all day. Her face wrinkled whenever she throw corn onto the wet pavement, cheerfully awaiting the pigeons to flock around the grains of corn scattered all over. There were a variety of pigeons flying all over, from black to gray to white, but they all had bloody red eyes. They were all soaked, maybe because the rain and some pigeons were shivering.

Window to the World

From inside, I looked

at the world through my window.

T’was not a good sight.

I  wiped and cleaned the window,

world was beautiful again.