Sentences

Somewhere in this conversation
I find myself unable to speak.

I cannot mention anything,
not even your name,
for you have already drifted
even before the first word.

Who shall hear me then
but the silence you drew
as sword to my side.

The next line is waiting to be said.
Whose mouth to murmur
we do not know.

We do not care
for we have
become sentences
beyond comprehension.

Homeward

Maybe in a plane past this country,
past its cities drenched by rain,
you think of home instead of departure.

Against the coldness of your trip
you keep yourself warm
with the excitement of reuniting
with transitories you have left days ago:

a job to land you on international markets,
night-outs in faraway shores, shopping sprees,
independence, and your Malaysian-Indian roommate.

As clouds close in,
resemble dreamy pillows
for your weary head,
someone whispers
a story amid the storm.

In the story, you are in a different plane
on a different path leading to a different
destination with a different purpose.

You are
descending,
resting,
residing.

You to him
are slowly coming home.

Letters to Could-Have-Been Lovers

I. Dear Q.

Don’t bother yourself, brother.
But really, had you sang your heart
A bit earlier than the dawning
Of her childhood love, now could have been
More than a stolen night spent in your car.
Tonight, as the mist chills your skin and her hopes,
It’s only a promise unsaid that goes unnoticed.
See, both your hands tremble of earthquakes
Longing to be hushed by the certainty of chances.
But never fade the thought that sirens in serenity
Have songs to offer too. Someday in the blooming
Of a different knowing, she’ll sing.
As if you’re the only one listening. So breathe.
Breathe as if this is far from an ending,
Near to what should have been your beginning.
Breathe as you once told me
That she is the rise and fall of your chest.

II. Dear J.

It’s not the songs he intentionally sings for you
In a videoke bar. Not the lyrics of which
Are what he offers his longing but you.
The vagueness of falling in love that is you.
Indifference is not to blame. What reference
But to say that heart-censorship kills
More than infidelity! And you know it.
You know that as he smokes a cigarette
In response to your restlessness
Brought by a different boy elsewhere,
There’s love in between his puffs.
You know that you smile in the presence
Of someone you once knew.
Someone to drive you from city to city
And finally home. You know
That the romance is too young to close
For you to hold on to someone else’s nearness
Which has a distance incalculable as the past.

(Published, Philippine Graphic, April 2, 2007)

To Bury a Sword

In the burning
Wound of pride:
To be a warrior
Who takes laying
His armor down
At the mention
Of his maiden's name
As a secret revealed
In dragon's fire.

(Published, Philippine Graphic, April 2, 2007)

The Unbearable Absence

The absence is unbearable.

Walls glow in the palest of whites
And sheets scream for her soft skin.

The hollowness within
Feeds on the unrestored visibility
Of the skies of a storm.

In my mind,
No desirous circles turn
For we neither push nor pull.
We are forceless.

In the letterbox, missives emptied of blood.

(Published, Philippine Graphic, April 2, 2007)