--

Mga Huling Araw sa Nagsarang Koreo*

May kakaibang himbing ang papel at bato

sa papasarang koreo. Sa mga huling araw

papanipis nang papanipis ang mga liham

na dapat timbangin, sipatin sa ilaw,

isalansan. Kumikintab ang malamig na sahig

at pabagal nang pabagal ang mga yabag.

Dapithapon nang may matandang babae

na naghulog ng sulat, isa sa mga pinakahuli.

Puti ang sobreng pahaba, walang bahid

ng lukot, tila dumaan sa papalamig na plantsa.

(Ang mga selyo’y dibuho ng makukulay na isda.)

Ibinulong sa kanya, Paalala, mananatiling bukas

ang mailbox sa labas. Maaari pa ring maghulog

ng anumang kakasya sa maliit na siwang—

mga liham na bitbit ang mga mumunting pakay,

nakabinbin hanggang sa dumating, marahang pilasin,

basahin. Tanging tingin ang tugon ng babae,

papasibol ang ngiti habang binabawi ang liham.

Naglakad ito palabas at dinig sa loob ng tanggapan

ang marahang pagbukas sa bibig ng mailbox, simula

ng napipintong wakas. Malamlam ang dapithapon

sa paglayo ng babae, papahaba ang mga anino.

Ang mga selyo’y dibuho ng makukulay na isda,

mahimbing ngunit dilat sa dekahong dagat.

*Batid na ang postal system ang pakahulugan ng 'koreo' at hindi ang mismong edipisyo o tanggapan ('ipadala ang lahok sa pamamagitan ng koreo'). Payo ni C, i-invoke ang poetic license at metonomiya.

India.

I am going to India next year. Melane, who took this photo as we were traipsing along the walls of Intramuros recently, noted how high-pitched her voice had become after hearing the news, and would like to know why my face is still in its typical, pinched scowl. I have to admit. Typing it here - I am going to India - made it sink in a bit more, although I would be hardpressed to say that it has me tearing up my hair and beating my chest a la Trojan women, except in joy.

Which is to say I ought to be more excited. I am going in November, so the year-long wait may have something to do with the lack of figurative (and maybe literal) confetti (far from the agonizing way one couldn't sleep the night before a school field trip to Nayong Pilipino). Mostly, I look forward to the distance. Melane, who herself went on an Eat-Pray-Love tour of Indonesia, said she loved most the newness of things. At about the same time, I was in Sagada, and we both readily took back what we said about ourselves and our inability to escape them. Maybe you can't, but perspectives change, and that's almost the same thing.

When I read some accounts of past residents, I couldn't help but think of Silliman and the other workshops I have gone to: how it gave me a glimpse of the life I want to live, a world without, essentially, the need to think about sustenance, which is to say, money. Yes, I will invoke my distaste for capitalism here to rationalize my laziness (the refusal, for one, to take on a full time job for almost two years now). I know that I may very well be just postponing my entry to the "real world." I'll be 27 in a few months, and 28 when this residency ends, so I can say, at the least, that I gave it a good fight.

PS. Now re-reading Midnight's Children for a paper. I tell myself I am hitting two birds with one stone. Learning about India and trying to take that INC off my records. Sure.

--

Bumalik sa batis kamakailan, kung saan nawala isang gabi at kinailangang hanapin at sunduin ng unipormadong Los Banos police bitbit ang kanilang naglalakihang flash light. Madaling baybayin ang lumipas na panahon sa pamamagitan ng mga balikong linya, putol-putol, minsa'y makapal at minsa'y 'di halos makita, mga sala-salabit na kasaysayang pilit na itinatali hanggang kaya. Maraming nagbago. Maraming nasira. Sa pagmamasid ngayon sa rumaragasang tubig, napansing may mga bahagi ang batis na payapa. Mahirap isipin: na pahihintulutan ng bara-barang pagkakaayos ng mga malalaking bato ang ganitong espasyo, na ligtas, na sagrado, habang sa paligid ay puno ng galit, nagmamadali, ang tubig. Maraming katahimikan sa muling pagbisita, mga siwang na pinupuno ng mga 'di na dapat sabihin, at malaon nang naipaliwanag, naisaisip. Kahapon, waring isang linggo ang lumipas sa loob ng walong oras. Marahas-masaya ang mga pangyayari, mga bagong karanasan, mga bagong pinagsaluhan, at sa gitna: isang oasis, isang dakong luntian at buhay sa ilang. Sa tapat ng ospital, may nasumpungang tahimik na kapihan. Uminom ng gatas. Nanahimik. Walang maliw na kapayapaan.

--

Phone call

Above the static, you were telling me

you found a book on a roadside stand.

Will I read it? I nod, forgetting

you can’t see my head, ascending

and descending in promise.

‘Least that’s what I heard; there is rumble

from a truck or else the miles asserting

the distance of places.

On my end, it is quiet.

The air is a whirl

of freshly brewed coffee. Soft jazz music

wafts from piped in speakers. I was saying

something unimportant

interrupted by interference,

some thunder, and Billy Holiday’s voice

purring a lyric about a hopeless

assignment, tenderly about you,

how you crossed latitudes, your shadow

lengthening over

rainforests and skyscrapers, and all

I have to do is look outside

for your pending darkness.