Saturday, November 1, 2014

Eileen R. Tabios



“I forgot a carapace, then its splitting”


I forgot a coil that previously bowed without purpose—it began to be lubricated for an intent to revise.

I forgot a bolt of cream linen turning crimson along the edges touching the floor.

I forgot a carapace, then its splitting.

I forgot the silvery thrum among treetops during perpetual autumns.

I forgot anthologies of glass.

I forgot the difference between desires for father and fodder.

I forgot questions thickening as the sun moved alongside the moon to preserve the possibility of synchronous precisions against skeptics who surfaced to avoid commitment.

I forgot the seeking that began without knowing whether one was beginning to stink or sing.

I forgot the clutter of broken objects manifesting affordable treasures when one owns nothing, or owns only dilemmas over belonging.

I forgot the aftermaths from dilemmas of belonging.

I forgot algebra failing to succor when relationships were inevitably destabilized by indigenous cell memory.

I forgot broken glass surfacing my first conception of Beauty from the lovely wink of a glass sliver, belying edges and their sharpness.

I forgot a grandmother who threw empty bottles at a toddler’s face.

I forgot staring at a photograph of a baby with belly larger than head and later arguing with my math teacher, “Two negatives do not equal a positive!”

I forgot the white light, white roses, white silk, white lace and white pearls that adorned my wedding—instead I remember this happy day included the whisper, “Mama, glass is easily broken …”

I forgot the original human born only because bamboo was split.

I forgot the lucidity of ancient mountains.

I forgot receiving a scar on my cheek while an emerald mountain wept.

I forgot no one else noticing the diminishing moon’s tiptoe across the night sky.

I forgot pausing to scratch with a missing finger.

I forgot stuffing doves into burlap bags.

I forgot an ascetic’s illusion of ecstasy will always be illusion due to its condition precedent: a suffering so unmitigated it hollowed non-survivors from children to earthworms.

I forgot a “Mom” and “Dad” bringing me to a turquoise house cheered by kittens and where I learned meals will be finished and still there will be food for the next.

I forgot immersing myself in a sea until, chin just topping salty water, my head became attached to the entire planet.

I forgot imagination cannot alchemize air into protein.

I forgot other boys like Samuel and Elwin whose bones became transparent.



© Eileen Tabios


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