Our artificial insemination, adopted from cattle and poultry farms, prompted the public to set off alarms, prophesying forced fertilization of teenage girls lacking proper guidance. Yet, we remember the mass … Continue reading Sonnet 1
Tag: Poem
If I could change SCOTUS
After Eric Clapton If I can teach the kids Raise them up for us Dedicate my life So they can see my love That this country we live in is … Continue reading If I could change SCOTUS
800 Miles
I, busy shelving picture books
All while dreaming of TV cooks,
was unaware that viral counts
jumped over predicted mounts.
The number of infected hosts
Bloomed like algae along our coast.
Notified of the coming harm,
I let fall books from my arm.
My thoughts raced to the San Francisco Bay
To my family, 800 miles away.
A library page no longer
Just a child, filled with hunger,
For the family I left behind
For the pay, the hustle, the grind.
Locked inside an unlocked prison
Quarantined in isolation
Disinfecting, I made so clean
My body of Covid-19.
In my sterile home, I must stay
From my family, 800 miles away.
Threats of furlough, not so subtle,
Increased our collective struggle
Underneath an orange regime
which history will not redeem.
Yet, I found myself quite lucky
To be employed while I study
Librarianship by the sea.
A rare gift afforded to me
From my family, 800 miles away
Where my roots will never decay.
Eventually, those with power
Deemed me an essential flower
Whose fruitful labor must be reaped
So the wealthy can safely sleep.
I, then, with my fellows, returned
To our buildings, where we learned
How to better serve our patrons
Not as before but as strict matrons.
To my family, 800 miles away
I send my hopes for a better day.
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My Wish
Wish you had taken better care of your lungs
Or of our hearts, dad,
But now, I find it harder to breathe without your tobacco.
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We did not
We did not heed the warnings about the coming storm followed by drought. We did not hear the women or children cry for food. We did not see men tremble and fall against the hallowed broken hall.
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Lost in Translation
An old leather suitcase with scuff marks from planes, trains, automobiles A gradient of nurses' scrubs starting at white and ending in cartoon characters against pastel backgrounds Letters written in a language that tastes like sea salt and sounds like a storm after a drought Balikbayan boxes stuffed to the bursting with the spoils of the new world An ancient weight scale used to ensure the delivery man is being fair with his prices Yellow legal paper and cursive inked by an amateur's hand The form of a mother, just off from work, slumped over a table before the television, snoring The form of a child placing a blanket on her mother's shoulders Telephone calls then silence Silence then telephone calls Pancit on Styrofoam plates A broken lamp once wielded like a sword A plastic oar used to shoo away rats An expensive living room set turned into a bed for an overworked mother Discarded Newport cigarettes in the outside garbage bin A tear stained blanket A diploma wrapped up in plastic Muffled voices on landlines Muffled voices on cell phones The warmth of a hug The smell of a sister's hair The way she drove her car around Motown on the radio Burnt rice at the bottom of a sauce pot
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Google Translated Language
Ang wikang lumalabas sa aking mga labi, sumusunod sa agos na hindi ko mahuhulaan. Ito ay bumubulusok nang malalim mula sa loob ng aking mga baga, nakakakuha sa mga baluktot na bangko ng mga salmo, winasak ang mga bundok ng pag-aalinlangan, habang nagpapakintab ng mga bato gamit ang bagong ritmo.
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Language
The language drifting from my lips
follows a current I can't predict.
It springs deep from within my lungs,
catches on the crooked banks of psalms,
erodes mountains of indecision,
while polishing rocks with new rhythm.
The Literary Dragon 