On an Ordinary Day

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(T)hings that just make a normally nice days are not what I want. I don’t care what the weather is. I don’t care what the temperature is. I don’t care where I am or what room I’m in. I’d just get up and get my coffee and an ordinary breakfast and get to work.”
~ Eudora Welty

PICTURE COLLAGE BY ERIK CRISOLOGO LIONGOREN

PICTURE COLLAGE BY ERIK CRISOLOGO LIONGOREN

for Norma Crisologo Liongoren

that queasiness in my mid-area,
a residue of the week’s bout of severe enteritis and dehydration
should have, if my sensitive
antennae were raised high, clued me in on
what would happen soon: your crossing over to eternal life.

i could’ve punched a fare-thee-well SMS
bundled with love and consolation
but creature of habit that i am,
and one who thought of illness as the ultimate bummer,
i slid back to my routine of sanity-saving
work–student papers to grade, essays to encode,
laundry to be sorted, calling in for congee delivery
because these human hands are not enough to
do all that has to be done on this most ordinary days
when you were borne aloft with brand-new angel wings

oh darling N,
now freed of gravity and your own mid-area queasiness,
tumble through the congee white clouds for me
in the meanwhile that i am bound to earth.

J LIKHA YATCO

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