Monday, May 3, 2021

Problem Is By Conchitina R. Cruz


 They say poor Filipinos multiply

like rabbits since they have nothing
to do but fuck. Living in houses with room

only for the inevitable brush
of the hand against the buttock in between
chores, on the way to switch

channels to the daily noontime show,
no money and little space
lead to nowhere

but to coupling. We used to joke
and call our selves typical Filipinos,
broke and empty-handed,

when all we did was touch, and for all
the movies we missed, fancy dinners
we didn’t have, books we borrowed

but never owned,
we compensated
by making love.

You told me not to worry,
that someday the worst
would end, just a couple of right

moves and it would be over.
Should I have told you then
we’d never been better,

should I have told you then
to hold your tongue, but we had
no room for such words.

We were rabbits,
Seeking the other side, bent on
Crossing the pasture.

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