there was this boarding house
along Gomez
somewhere in Davao
where i stayed
some years back
when i was young and
reckless.....
at the back is the pond
without fish
so it was calm and brackish
without any
trickle except when it rains
or when a child plays with his stones
and hit
the middle of the water sort of its
navel
the floors are made of wood
and the door where i stayed had not
reliable lock
and someone may enter even without having to knock
or ask my permission
it was the open door
which made so many stories
at night
at dawn
and the pool had always for years
kept its
dead silence
the child was a peeping tom
and had always kept his innocence
the years flooded everyone
spread like confetti in all directions of the world
no one came back
to retrieve
what was never written.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem