for my sister, giving birth
A double meaning, I guess. When the effort offers
more wind to the process, a grown-up confusion
depreciates. A day of countless promotions, too,
suddenly glimmers, as seismic as the letters
of your name in the skin of new day. Numbers
reduced into decreed holidays. Once again,
these are the borne context on your head, set
to cradle the perfect word in a tin house we built
for freelance work and exclusive reading repast.
My dear sister, you lie there waiting for now.
My dear sister, you lie there closing your eyes.
Don’t you know the sun is knitted for a pumpkin
hat, its rays the colourful socks for tiny feet
insecure about the dripping weather in September.
Oh, my sister, labour day is all fine with jazz!
Before I forget, just what I heard on the news,
Kim Jong Un loves to play with missiles
with no carrier-propositions. And just so you know,
dear sister, like Kim, I’ve watched the episodes
of The Boy General, expecting that in every
cartoon show, a healthy baby is born.
Lawdenmarc Decamora holds an MFA in creative writing and is currently finishing his MA in literary and cultural studies. He is a literature professor in the oldest existing Catholic university in Asia, the University of Santo Tomas. His literary work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cordite Poetry Review, The Ilanot Review, Kartika Review, Spittoon Literary Magazine, Peacock Journal, TAYO Literary Magazine, We Are A Website, The Pangolin Review, LONTAR, Asian American Writers’ Workshop’s Transpacific Literary Project, Rambutan Literary, Shot Glass Journal, Ginosko Literary Journal, Mad Swirl, Chrome Baby, New Southerner, In Between Hangovers, Panoplyzine, The Cadaverine, and many others. He lives in the Philippines.