The Lovesong of the Office Worker

The Lovesong of the Office Worker (after Prufrock) In dreamsthe office blooms with scales.Fishes unzip their bellies,spill résumés that twitchand curl on the tank.Coins scuttle under chairs. The kitchen womanwears fishbones for hairpins.Don’t be so loud,she says, voice echoing,tiny fins flicking at her throatas men stroke her spine,hands slick with brine. The worker readies to […]

There Are Women You Cannot Invent

There is no shelter like this in my memory.No flicker of light through a bullet hole.No child’s cry next to the hiss of a propane tank. But I read she brought soupto a room filled with strangers.That she poured it without a word. That somewhere outside,a drone blinked like an eyesearching for grief it hadn’t […]

Fermentation

In my lagalag years, I spent a year in Ifugao. On weekdays we would climb the rice terraces at dawn, wrapped in thick fog, visiting homes scattered across the mountains. One of my favorite memories from those days is learning to make tapuey, carefully enveloping the bubud in rice, a gentle, almost sacred gesture I’ve […]

On Meandering

I never knew the word flâneuse until I read it in a poem. A woman who wanders the city without purpose. I had to laugh. It felt like being seen through a word I had no business knowing. A meandering girl. What a strange but delicious kind of threat. Who gave her time to meander? […]

The Siren Call

The Siren Call The house was the last kubo by the mangroves,green plastic chairs stacked by the door,near a graveyard of boats where cats bred in the hull. Someone said she lived there.Or only came when the tide was low.Someone said she was a prostitute. I got confused by this.The only prostitute I knew was […]

How The Morning Finds Me

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘔𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰.𝘐𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘮,𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴.𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥.𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴,𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦,𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘨 […]

How to Clean an Octopus

This morning I cleaned an octopus. I used my hands the way I was taught -firm, but not cruel, working rock salt into each arm until the suckers loosened. My body remembered the motion before my mind did. My grandmother, she taught me to massage the octopus until it stopped fighting. Until the muscles remembered […]