Winter, 1999

Shade from the light
            skin carries, water
                        rivering curves

a shiver down my spine
            bowing like an instrument

and mama rubbing lotion
            between her palms
                        imitates summer

the blanket I spread
            for protection
                        where father sits

to tell me a story
            I can’t sleep without
                        history that looks like

me so my mother
            threads a doll
                        from an old towel

stitch-by-stitch my likeness
            in the fabric my eyes
                        the color of earth

now skin drapes
            over her cheekbone
                        remembering only

through pictures the feeling arrives
            later the consequence
                        buried in flashes

where memory refuses
            to take her
                        back and me

always the girl
            I didn’t become
                        I’m sorry for the body

I couldn’t save
            so meticulously
                        soothed when she

warmed efficascent oil
            greening her palms
                        my warm exhale

Krysta Lee Frost is a mixed race Filipino American poet who halves her life between the Philippines and the United States. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Margins, Entropy, Berkeley Poetry Review, wildness, and elsewhere. She is currently pursuing an MA in Creative Writing at the University of the Philippines Diliman.

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1 Response to Winter, 1999

  1. Jordan Brown says:

    Such a lovely poem!

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