unnamed verse #6


a tiny plant inside
a concaved cement
the hollow no more
occupied by grayness
left-over food,
remnants of your tasty fish
on the canal,
swimming in murkiness
pretty faces, along the side
waiting for a jeepney
to wheel them off

the fish is back
in the waters
it swims with its bones
dark waters of the canal
enveloping the spaces
where flesh and scale had been.


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