I’ve always envied those brave souls
who find the courage to dance
with anybody, to any song, or any beat.
But I am not like them.
There are certain songs I only dance to
and not well enough, really.
I look like a marionette
flailing my arms in the air
And sidestepping and hopping
To the tune of Eraserheads.
The poet dedicates this to her own mother, Lea Belen Santillan. The first poem she has ever written for her.
Under the tangerine sky
I frantically wore
my yellow tsinelas
from an afternoon
of bato lata
and Slipper X
I dusted myself off
and waved farewell
to my playmates
as their mothers
wiped sweat off their faces
with Good Morning towels
I wonder
why Mother never
fetched me
from the plaza
made my assignments
or let me cheat
on quizzbees
What does it mean to Mother?
Mai Santillan