BY MARK ANGELES
Posted by Bulatlat
Vol. VII, No. 41, November 18-24, 2007
How small are those fingers,
Mariannet, my dear igsoon.
They filled pages of paper
with strokes of your thoughts.
They fizzed with detergent
when you helped your mother
do your neighbor’s laundry.
They rubbed your tummy
when it coiled with hunger.
They scuffed the lice in your hair.
Those fingers yearned to break
the wind as you pedal downhill
with a bike you had wished
for this year’s blue Christmas.
They waited to be greased
by morsels of grilled chicken
and smidgened by chocolate cake.
How small are those fingers,
Mariannet, my dear igsoon,
already drenched with regrets.
They held the rope of your lot
and took the fall of your breath.
(for Mariannet Amper)
Posted by (Bulatlat.com)
