Ruth Mabanglo | Poems in English



	A Conjectural Poem by Flor Contemplacion One \| Two \| Three \| Four \| Five 1 I am a night hunting for stars in this cell my coffin, too a pot of dust diffused to the plazas of Singapore of Laguna of Manila of different cities inside and outside of my country, the Philippines dust became salt of thousands of existences face and flesh of numerous periodicals images diverting hours and space from a million televisions and radios shocked by paired eyes and ears blinded deafened by screams snarls cries groans violence to the children and young women split by their fathers cleaved by foreigners in the shadow of marriage in the shade of dollars in the promised quiet nap I am a night hunting for stars 2 I am a night without a last supper in this cell my home and my court a tongue forked by loyalty to self to family to country behold dripping from my split tongue words covered by blood and tears words shaped by conjecture and belief the viand of my confidence the rice of my fears the soup of my sadness and later the punishment, they say, for my crime mapped in my mind the sin to dream to dream rice I did not steam viand I did not cook food I need not work for before ingesting no need to clean up after I ate and there is no one to scold me and I need not be ashamed I am a night without a last supper 3 I am a night which does not pass by Pilate arraigned by accusation by promise by need still buried in my throat the forefingers pointing while swinging in the pupil of sight the rope the rope the rope empty as it descended but instantly it ascended with my lifeless body images that cannot be erased clinging to the mind clasped to the heart clamped to the feet persisting persisting like unpaid labor service without gratuity therefore you wallow in anxiety like a prostitute who clings to the arm and shoulder of a man she wants as a customer refusing at first then turning his back afterwards overcome by lust she is used as relief mapped out in her skin sticky kisses devoured the scab of affection then heartlessly went in and out until she is showered with vile memories she feels like vomitting forcing back into the stomach the intestines then suddenly without a word without permission she is abandoned testimonies paraded me stripped mocked again in school I am the child the teacher scolded when I was caught not listening a teenage girl spanked by my father when I came home late cursed at by mother when I sauteed unsoftened mung beans slapped by my older brother at the first exchange of smiles with a male classmate insulted by a wealthy classmate because he said my sweat stinks forced to kneel on salt at my first truancy I am a night crying at the first flow of blood between my legs scared that it was perhaps a sin time cannot crush the memory moving pulsating existing living always always trembling shaking my humanity I am a night which did not pass by Pilate 4 I am a night in Golgotha hanging in wait darkness the shroud in the lashes of wind and whip of accusations I remember I wished to become deaf when he insisted I I killed my friend I wished to be bald when my hair was violently snatched by iron fingers in the strands the force emerged when he tossed me around like a pillow effortlessly slammed against the wall like a pillow effortlessly hurled again and again like a pillow effortlessly only then I saw myself next to the chair my face clinging to the table flattened against the corner I wished to become numb when my arms again and again bound like the wringing in the final rinse of the wash when my shoulder grabbed shaken like the wringing in the final rinse of the wash I wished to become a corpse when again and again shattered by lashes guarded by punches showered by strikes like laundering stained wash soaped, scrubbed, pounded blood wants to ooze from my wounds I refuse because maybe it is illegal to litter my mind boils it will explode it seems unexpectedly I am a night in Golgotha a lamb between two criminals Singapore and the Philippines lawyer and consul dream and children Oy, although you have now arrived in Singapore You now have something to wager in Laguna Your husband is still unfaithful You are still a servant it will not change The bars are tatooed on your face Although you are deported to the Philippines I I I am a night in Golgotha 5 I am a night of resurrection I parted the darkness in the resting coffin arisen I even without promises walked even without life visited the roads of Singapore of Manila of Laguna of Davao and of different cities inside and outside of my country, the Philippines a box skin and bones resurrected by newspapers supported by anger the cause of thousands of clenched fists a box ash splattered on the face of placards on computer screens in the speeches of legislators became the sparks of anger became an election issue became the poison of wind How many congressmen rode on my coffin? How many donations were pocketed by my unfaithful husband? How many witnesses appeared only to become famous? Did my children bereave over me? Were they sincere? Were they sincere? my coffin became a canoe my corpse used as a paddle I was given life awakened bought sold being sold prostituted prostituting (by) the issue (by) the story (by) the remains (they say) in the name of truth (they say) in the name of justice (they say) in the name of honor I parted the darkness in the resting coffin arisen I even without promises walked even without life visited the roads of Singapore of Manila of Laguna of Davao and of different cities inside and outside of my country, the Philippines I am a night of resurrection