Poetry in English

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 offand waved farewellto my playmatesas their motherswiped sweat off their faceswith Good Morning towels I wonderwhy Mother never            fetched…

There are things bigger than me.            Like husking the coconut             to sip its water,            hacking the shell, and scraping the meat            into strands before the third moon sets. Perhaps your oracle eye fishes in the shallows for the glimmer of a treasure chest in the waters off this Palawan quarry.            Like deciding which fruits of…

I cannot remain The fairytale of the seafoam Or flicker of maiden?s Face in the pool. By your hand, I churn, fluid  As my temple.  And am I not creature – Necessary creation  Of what surrounds me?  See my disappearing fin, Camouflaged in synthetic fiber Flora, ghostlings Of progress.  Call me leviathan. My ocean body…

1. There is no mapping out a spacedefinable only by the pigment of its occupants. In these shores,the economy of skin and hair and eyes outweighs the mandate of coin.An island local jokingly quips: the border that outlines General Lunafrom the rest of Siargao is determined by the sudden, sporadic presenceof white bodies splayed on…

Concrete trees mount this junglethe home of the corporate hoarders and lunchless laborers.Sunlight veils its walls, producing shadows to shade the windowless homes.Traffic symphony signals the roofless residents to wake-up, to look for a new cardboard sleeping bagand to scout another cave for slumber.Elite apes live in concrete treehouseswhile peasant roaches creep the cemented ground.Both live harmoniouslywith…