Angel

She wore her hair down, like a veil, only it didn’t cover her face. “Your hair is your crowning glory,” she told me as she bathed her hair in a mist of Aqua Net. I loved the dangerously sweet, dizzying smell of it, so I always stayed beside her whenever she fixed up her beautiful mane of rich, dark brown hair. She shook her head gently, checking the acid test of strength and staying power. Her hair swayed in one stiff, uniform motion. She smiled at me. “Perfect,” she would say, then she picked up a tube of lipstick, reapplying one more coat to her already rouged lips. They looked like they weren’t part of her, almost like they were alive. Two fiery red horizontal crescent-moons against the immaculate white sky of her delicately powdered face. “You’ll behave, won’t you, sweetheart?” she cooed sweetly. Her voice was like the music that came from the porcelain jewelry box that she kept in her vanity. “I will, Mommy.” She smiled serenely and kissed my waiting cheek. Her lipstick felt waxy against my skin. She wiped it away with her handkerchief that she had doused lightly with Chanel Cristalle, the only perfume she insisted on wearing. One time my father had given her Nina Ricci’s L’Air du Temps and she had given him a thin-lipped smile and a cool stare as she gently placed the yellow box by her bedside table. My father understood his mistake and replaced it the very next day. “Ladies always carry hankies in their purses,” she told me once. After that day, I made sure to always pick out a neatly-pressed handkerchief from my dresser before I left for school.

Now, many years have passed and she is just a shadow of the glorious, incandescent angel she once was. The beautiful mass of rich chocolate waves has lost its gloss and hue. The fire in her eyes has almost died out. Sometimes she sits by the window, tracing invisible lines in the glass. Her sad sighs fill the cracks and the spaces of the room she once shared with my father. She lies in bed often, silent and motionless, waiting for the day when she will finally be adored and beautiful again, where my father will be standing at the door with a kiss waiting on his lips. And she’ll say “you’ll behave, won’t you sweetheart?” Then, with a tinkling, crystalline laugh and the swishing of Peau de Soie, she is gone. All that is left is the faintest scent of Cristalle and the ghost kiss on my cheek.

Plane

The doorbell rings while I am sitting in bed, wondering if I was wrong for wanting anything to happen. And something does happen. I am confused as it is already 10:23 on the clock. Late at night and someone is at the door. A little scared, too, because I am not expecting anyone. I push the covers off me and slip out of bed slowly. My feet finally touch the floor, as cold as my skin. My heart is strangely steady and it pounds a dull rhythm against my chest. I turn off the airconditioning, just in case my visitor wants to stay a little bit longer. The electric bill was terrible last month; no point in a repeat performance.

My steps are timid and soundless against the planks of weathered wood. It’s so quiet that I can hear my breathing: irregular and shallow. I make my way down the steps in total darkness, then flick the switch to the light on. My eyes adjust to the brightness that floods the room. The doorbell rings again, not from impatience, but just as a reminder. I lick my lips, trying to save the cracked skin, then I move forward.

The living room is still. Everything is still, except for my heart, which by now is racing against my chest. I can’t seem to move. My eyes are locked on the door that is the only thing keeping me from whoever it is waiting to see me. With a sharp breath, I reach out to grasp the knob and turn it quickly. No turning back now. I open the door.

And he is there.

He tries to appear as though it was a mistake. “I was just passing by,” he offers pitifully but he knows that I know better. I smile to make it better, to ease the pain of his humility. He smiles back. “It’s so late, I should get going.”

“Okay,” I say. Then he rakes his fingers through his hair and coughs with awkward precision. “I love you,” he says quickly, like an afterthought. I know him so well and I’ve waited for this so long that I find it easy to forgive him.

I look at him, my heart aching so badly that it feels like it could burst. I know I look ridiculous in my oversize pajamas with enormous yellow ducks but he is looking at me like I am the queen of the universe. His eyes are full of tears that I know he is willing not to shed. “Sorry, I’m an idiot,” he says. “I should go.”

He makes a motion as if to leave, but he doesn’t.

I realize that this is the perfect time, the only time. “Thank you,” is all I can say as I slip my arms around him. He understands perfectly; knows that what I really meant to say is “I love you too” and possibly even “I love you more.”

He holds me for as long as he can, then his arms go slack and he lets go of me. He steps back to look at me and then he smiles, a sad sort of smile. “Bye.”

I nod, my lips trembling, my entire body shaking. “Bye,” I reply. My voice is broken, and so is my heart.

He takes my hand and presses it to his chest, never taking his eyes off me. “Don’t forget me,” he says. With that, he lets go.

Then, he is gone.

Panaginip

Ikaw ay akin habang sumisikat ang araw
Habang maliwanag pa ang mundo
Ngunit pagpasok ng dilim,
pagdating ng buwan at ng mga bituin,
Ika'y sakop na ng gabi
at unti-unting nawawala sa akin

Pikit-mata, tumatakas ka sa yakap ng paniginip
at iniiwan akong nag-aantay sa iyo

Pilit kong sinasara ang aking mga mata
Umaasang sumunod sa iyo
Ngunit ako'y napupunta sa ibang lugar
kung saan namumuhay
ang mga usa at agila

Kung saan ang mga bituin ay kumikislap
kahit sumisikat pa rin ang araw
kung saan matatagpuan
ang lahat ng mga alaala
na nanggaling sa aking kamusmusan

Kung saan
wala ka

Nasaan ka ngayon?
Nakaupo sa itaas ng bahaghari sa kalangitan?
Nakasakay sa isang higanteng hayop sa Delhi?
Lumalaban sa digmaan ng Mactan?
Lumalangoy sa ilog ng Jordan?

Nais kitang makasama sa iyong panaginip
sapagkat ito ang iyong huling lihim sa akin

Ikaw ay akin habang sumisikat ang araw
Habang maliwanag pa ang mundo
Ngunit pagpasok ng dilim,
Iniiwan mo akong nag-aantay sa iyo

Yesterday

Today, he barely looked my way. I tried catching his gaze whenever I'd pass him, but he would just see right through me and walk past. Wounded, I walked up to him at the end of the day. He was bending over the drinking fountain, his lips searching out the continuous spray of water rushing out of the spout. I waited for him to finish. I knew that he knew I was standing there in front of him. He tried to prolong what he was doing for a few more seconds until he realized that I wasn't about to leave until he acknowledged my presence.

His foot left the pedal and the stream of water stopped.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned to me.

"Hey," he said to me. "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged. "I'm thirsty."

He looked around, then looked at me. "Okay, then. I'll see you around."

He offered a quick smile then he walked away.

Sunset

The sky cast a sleepy amber glow over the earth as the last rays of the sun set ended their voyage. A lucid silence embraced the living and those who slept in the eternal repose of death. Everything was still. The two young lovers leaning against the wise and somnolent tree, with its roots deep in the bosom in the earth, shared one last kiss before they expelled their last breaths. Their limbs were entwined together as they searched out each other’s lips before their final sighs escaped from their fragile bodies.

As the day came to a close, so did the lives of these two tragic lovers whose lives did not belong to the earth, but to the eternal mystery of the night sky who beckoned for them to come home.

Dragonflies

"Do you love me?"

An awkward silence filled the air for a second. He was taken by surprise. I could tell because his eyelids flew open, revealing startled eyes. But only for a second, because he loved me.

"You know the answer to that, angel," he replied.

"I'm asking and I want to hear it," I said.

"Yes."

I turned on my side so that I would be facing him, who was staring at the late afternoon sky. Dragonflies with crystal eyes and wings hovered above us, darting to and fro, but stopping every so often to catch their breath, I think. Do dragonflies catch their breath?

"Just say it, Jay," I said, trying my best not to sound too petulant. I felt my mouth pout reflexively.

He turned towards me with an amused half-smile on his mouth. There was a watermelon-colored stain on his left cheek from the kiss I had pressed against it earlier. "I love you, Carla," he said. His cheeks flushed while he said it, but his eyes twinkled.

I smiled, satisfied. "Okay." A silence stretched out between us. Not awkward this time. Just nice and warm and comfortable. His hand found mine. I tried to pull my hand away because it was sweaty, but he just held on tighter. I smiled and he smiled and we both lay there holding hands and smiling. We both watched the plane slowly making its way in the sky. It fit in between my thumb and my pointer when I held the two close enough to each other to make a small slit.

I knew that summer would soon be over and that the bright, almost-neon green grass in the field we lay on would turn into a dead shade of brown. I knew that the flowers and the fruits and the dragonflies would also be gone. The world was full of impermanence and temporary beauty, but our clasped hands, his sweet reluctance, and our shared smiles and silence.. They all assured me that what we had would not fade like the dying sun setting in the distance. The sun sent out the last of its rays and immersed the field with its almost-neon green grass, the dragonflies with crystal eyes and wings, and the two kindred spirits lying on the grass with their fingers intertwined, in its warm glow.

A Beautiful Day

The sun was shining brightly on our faces and we sucked in the wind in as it rushed past us like a current. The smell of the fields was weaved with the sweet smell of palm trees and evaporating rain. Our hearts were racing wildly with the feeling of the sun, the wind, and the knowledge that we were free. Free from responsibilities, free from exams, free from nights filled with caffeine and worry, free from the dread of receieving newly checked papers from smug professors and bitter old maids who resented the fact that we were brilliant and young. The van's faulty tank left streaks of gasoline rainbows in its wake, mixing with puddles of rainwater. It was, indeed, a beautiful day.

Wonderland

"Hello," he said to me.

"I am dreaming," I said aloud.

"Yes."

And with that, he was gone.

I should not have admitted it. Perhaps he was embarrassed about being discovered, because I was back in the room with no windows and a small ventilator.

I looked at my wrist where the pain was still raw and red. I felt silly for doing it. I touched the jagged line with one hesitant finger.

I clucked my tongue at the thin sheets that were stained with much evidence of my stupidity. "He will be upset," I said to myself in a scolding tone.

I gathered the sheets into my arms and tried to find a place to hide them, but there was nowhere to. I stood up and walked to the ventilator, then reached up and stuffed them into the spaces around the fan. There was more darkness because of this and only a small, crooked slit of light managed to force its way into the room.

I went back to the small bed with splinters sticking out of the weak wood and sat on the flimsy cushion.

I liked the man in my dream. He had brown-green-grey-black-purple-neon pink eyes and a familiar smile. He smelled like hazel, rain, and the sea. I liked him more than William and his cold blue eyes that never seemed to see me anymore.

"You're sick, Allie. Very sick," he had said to me.

I touched my forehead with the back of my hand and only felt skin. "I am fine, William."

"You need help."

"I can feel my forehead just fine, William. I don't like other people
touching me."

"You need help," he said again, not hearing me.

And so he sent me away like a package and I was put in the room with no windows. Every so often, a woman in a deceiving white dress and a silly nurse's cap came in to take me to see Dr. Something-or-Other who would ask me about how I was like when I was a child or how I was feeling, trying to uncover some nonexistent skeletons in my closet.

"You are making a lot of progress," Dr. Something-or-Other would say after every session. I would say "thank you, Doctor," and the woman in her silly white dress and cap would usher me to the room with no windows again.

Today, scissors slipped out of the woman's pocket. They looked very lonely sitting on the floor. She did not seem to notice, so I took them and slipped them under the sleeves of my shirt.

I fell asleep soon after I made the line on my wrist. And that was when I met him.

I like him better than anyone else in this stupid world.

I try to fall asleep again. This time, I will not tell him that I know he is not real. Maybe this time, he will not leave.

Night Drive

I took her for a ride in my father's car the first time she agreed to let me see her. Her hair became the wind and the night sky as I pulled down the hood and began to drive. Her eyes reflected the light of the stars and the moon. She laughed as I have never heard any girl laugh before as we sped across the highway. Her laughter was childlike and pure and it tinkled like bells in my ears. She pressed her lips together to control herself, but it was a futile attempt for she let out that enchanting laughter once again, and suddenly the world was new to me and I was in love.

I did not want the night to end. I wanted it to go on like the endless expanse of the universe that stretched on far beyond what we could see as we looked up to stare at the stars. I wanted to keep her, her laughter and the entire moment forever.

I did not want to let her out of the car, for I knew that once she stepped out, she would be marred with the reality of life and growing older.. The hurt of a broken heart and the disappointment of things not going the way she had planned.. The bitter pain of rejection and the sleepless nights of trying to figure out how to pay the bills and what her children's breakfast would be the next day..

These things would hurt her and would take away the stars in her eyes and the bells in her laughter. They would make her eyes glassy and dazed and her heart shriveled and tired.

I kept driving for as long as I could. Sometimes I caught her falling asleep. Her head would be nestled on the thick support of the seatbelt and her lips would be slightly parted, always in a half-smile. Other times, I looked at her and she would be regaining consciousness. Her eyes would flutter open and her cheeks presumably, though I could not really tell, would flush from the embarrassment of being caught falling asleep.

I drove around the city with its bright neon lights and distinct loudness. There were noises everywhere, but the only thing I listened to was the sound of her breathing.

"Michael?"

Her voice was soft, but clear.

I turned towards her.

"It's almost eleven. Dad's expecting me home soon."

I nodded and smiled at her, and she smiled back, and it was then that I drove her home.

Dry

My lips are dry and I lick them slowly and deliberately to save them from their parched state. I press them together to seal in the moisture. I wet them again for good measure.

After a few seconds, they begin to crack from the heat.

Above

Though I can't hear your laughter from where I sit, I imagine it filling up the distance between you and me.

Moon

Starry, starry night and the blanket was warm on our skin. We took turns drinking from the bottle that held fire and water while the sun glowed softly through the moon. It was his last night on earth.

“I’ll miss you,” he told me.

I said nothing as I moved my hands over my bare legs. Our skin was translucent in the moonlight.

“I’ll think of you while I’m up there,” he said softly. “About this night and how I was here with you.”

Still I said nothing. I just looked up and wondered with a growing despair how long it would take for him to come back to me.

“Think of me when the night arrives. I’ll be there, watching over you.”

The next day, he was gone, but when evening came, he was there, shining on me from the night sky.

Glass

A clear compartment

of intricate design

that holds the cool elixir

that they put to the two parted gates

when they have withered and cracked

It empties itself accordingly

(depending on the velocity of their hands)

When clumsily neglected

it races downard and screeches

as it scatters to the ground

many and one

Another exercise in defamiliarization a long time ago.

Nail Cutter

It is cool to the touch

and angular in shape

Its jaws are sharp yet smooth

and its sole wing flaps flightlessly

preparing the creature to feast

on the helpless white buds

that sprout from thin stalks

rooted in a bulbous anchor

It attacks with voracious ferocity

No warning, none at all

Save for that of the flightless wing

preparing, in vain, for flight

An exercise in defamiliarization in fourth year high school.