Author: Elvis Galasinao Jr.
-
To Leonard Matlovich
Those cartridges that are emptyare golden like the sunlightand the highlights of his hair.He loved that gold like he loved the petalsof the flowering daffodils gleamingin the dawn with auric splendor.The bullets are scattered like seeds of loss,two cold bodies of men, obliviousto the blood that seepsover the ground