Two Poems

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Adieu, Jorellie

And this shall be my last goodbye.

Do not leave your door— even your windows,
The leaks in your ceiling open for my voice
Seal your heart for if I come to return to your hands
The pieces of my heart wrapped in your shirt
I shall think of you—the you who loved me—
Now someone distant
Someone as cold as the floodwater that soak my feet
As I pound on your door when I am again
Homeless in the torrential rains; lost in my longing
And if I come to you like this
Looking for the warmth of your arms
And the embers in your eyes that fired my heart
And many times burned down your untidy room,
Lock your doors and seal your windows
As if my arrival is comparable to thieves of pastries and wine
Of sneaky felines that raid the food on your table
Or the landlady coming to get her rent

And if I arrive at the gate of your house
Seeing from your window the bulbs unlit,
Your doors closed and a salivating dog collared to the doorknob,
I shall know, that the couch would feel terrible
Of receiving my weight
That the spoons and forks would be in disgust
Of my mouth
And your bedroom would flip me out of the windows
If I come without your consent


I shall know by then and it is only right to know
That your heart like mine had bid,
Finally
The coldest and longest
The most prolonged of all farewells

* * *

Back to the Sugarcane Field

Your suntanned hair blown by the summer wind
As we walked the dirt road of your village
You are now a grown child and I remember you
As you have forgotten me,
Our afternoons on the wooden swing tied to the tallest of trees
Pushing each other off then chasing me
After I naughtily lifted your skirt
Sometimes we were bruised and in verge of tears
We try to wipe our watery eyes with our palms
And we spit bad words out of curiosity
The joy of speaking the unspeakable in the absence of adults
We tortured the frogs, the grasshoppers, the dragonflies,
The angry red ants and even the good black ants
That never deserved the pinning of our little fingers,
But only because it is the fate of the little beings
And we laughed because we mocked god
For his impotence to stop our evil

You looked at me with strange familiarity
Do you even remember me?
Ah, look at you.
The purest of the village
Your silent lips, that never spoke
Like the truest of virgins
Your shy eyes
That avoided the stares of men, even mine
Your ripening body,
A weapon you possess you do not understand
And men from the cities flocked your village
To catch your heart
And you, you laughed at all of them
Because your heart is pure
And love, is such a strange thing
For your innocence

Your suntanned hair graced by the dust in the wind
As we walk on this unpaved road
Your lips that have never known the fingers of man
Smiled at me as if remembrances of childhood
Have stricken you with awe

How can those pure smiles be so unforgettable
And yet so evil?

 

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