On August 16, 2017, 17-year-old Kian delos Santos was accosted by police during a drug raid, and later shot. Investigations revealed he was unarmed despite police claims. CCTV footage cleared him of the accusations. Kian was one of thousands killed in Duterte’s drug war. —GMA News, Philippines

The boy in mid-step,
feet barely touching pavement.
Once, he ran through sunlit streets,
You got a fast car. I want a ticket to anywhere.

Now men with no names
drag him past alleyways,
a maze of dead ends swallowing stories.

The lens whirs.
The body blurs,
thinned by shadow and motion.
Up he goes in the data stream,
from blue and red, his thin clothes fade to gray.
I had a feeling that I belonged.

The lampposts flicker,
as if unsure if they should watch.
A dog whines in the corner.

The boy opens his mouth—
his mother, his father,
a flock of doves spilling from his lips,
their wings catching on lamplight
before vanishing into the dark.
Maybe we’ll make a deal.

His last words hang like a prayer,
the air holding them,
just before everything breaks.
I remember we were driving, driving in your car.

Then the fall—
knees to the ground.

The earth receives him.
Mud, filth, glass.
The body folding into itself.

Two shots to the head.
One to the back.

Somewhere, a woman wails.
Grief is cheap in this city.

The frame zooms in:
a gun too big for his fingers,
the missing slipper,
details the camera collects.

Wide shot.
The focus pulls back.
His body shrinks,
becoming part of the street.

Blood spills across pavement.
The stars above remain indifferent.
You got a fast car; is it fast enough so we can fly away?

I see it all.
Every fall, every scream,
in monochrome,
where black and white collide.
You still gotta make a decision.