Tears

Tears (for A, I shed) When I herd these tribes and fashion cities With my words, you are what's missing. - Mookie Katigbak, The Proxy Eros I cast a brief look at you many a time, Partly considering your noonday shadow’s silhouette a singular move far As you pay heed in discreet agony to the old Angelus' chewed verses and secrecy. This dust-laden jalousie classroom spares me to steal quite a glance of you-- Trussed up in your chair, chin nesting on left palm Time and again as against your emptiness. Religious as your hair finger- combed in place all too often. Seedless to say, before you’ll be hand in hand with your lover, Whose teeth are those of metals, On the following street to reach your home in Gusa , Let me tell you my itch: If it is a misdeed that I travel from one antinomy to another, Perhaps, you are the credo and the gospel on top of which Of what I cannot write nor cite in the words of my poetics: Drunk diurnal sobrieties, c(r)ooked metaphors And jabberwockies, each verb I turn into flesh: darling, these are not You. If by chance, you’d come to notice the process Of what I do and do all the time Without my consent or other of a conscious effort, Listen: You are these paled viscid extracts Resting lightly astride my lashes that are sure Warmer than a breath and are yet to trickle down my cheeks. *Gusa - A place in Cagayan de Oro City , Southern Philippines