Poem: things i don't remember

november is the sickest month

the way my mouth had reached over the distance of interstates, organs, indian reserves, bishops, soldiers, your most loveliest bodies, singing to
you
touching yourself to
that perfect crackling of 3:15 a.m.
and parents asleep and gathering
ring fingers and torsos and because all that i love was sound,
(tightly, your chest lifting against the door in rhythm)
you've put the phone down,
you've stopped speaking words

christmases with a tree

el niño, wearing a catholic school jumper

"the first time i fell in love" being
the first time i saw america again after
so many silent nights
humming to the virgin mary,
lighting candles for the tabernacle
watching
missionaries fingering dead men and their hungry dogs,
rancid meat on display in the streets,
a conquistador jesus among the crowds in cheap colouring, hammering
rice patties and miss princess asia of manila, i love you i love you, iniibig kita, ang ganda mo!
in a motorcycle parade, her face is so maganda
mabuhay, you can't say it right
my dear, what is wrong with the colour of your hair?

my mother's car accident

my mother's wedding pictures

what i consider precious

after school, walking home once to you,
i smiled at spanish ladies taking their daughters to the park,
stroking their cheeks, ah hijas, daughters, wanting love so bad,
pretty enough to be so easy,
moist and bleeding out on the night grass,
you told me this was a sitting sky,
this is a graveyard for you and you and you

my body being precious

like a prayer

my father calling the police on me

almost drowning

the house i was born in
the house where i lived in and learned how to talk,

the house, where it had stood

wanting everyone to fall in love with me, over and over again