for Nanay who left for celestial embrace
Hello, you. I’m speaking to you, in heavy
breathing, because last night it rained
while I was asleep and dreaming
your lips: the thirst-worn cracks
of red, the silence they heaved.
Some truths, of mostly naked.
Like your tale of fairies flying,
finding their way home into trunks
of trees. Like your kiss in dreams
of that which bridges you to me.
Have you kissed me, stolen
like your promise I once believed
before you turned your back and left
and kept those lips, in sleep?
Hello, you. I cannot figure. Only that
it has been a struggle to breathe,
and sleep and dream deep
now and each night rain begins.