Social Studies Poem by RIC BASTASA

i

a mother taking care of
a son who just had a nervous breakdown
there is no way
for a mental asylum

ii

there is this woman who writes poems
translates them from bisayan to english
making the poems
the little burdens of grammar school

iii

there are siblings who quarrel all the days of their life
forgetting the color of their blood
too near and so too far
cutting navels, making fences, choking necks

iv

how did we end? we started with some social sketches
defining what social studies is all about
sweet nothings, and trivial matters
bridging gaps, comparing black and white
and dreaming of rainbows

v

no lust. a friendly chat. something platonic.
a brother to a sister. birds hiding some wings.
oral intercourse.
social studies. a little poetry. a human craving.
empty. full. empty. lull. wanting to go.
but staying still.

vi

oh my, i tell myself finally as we say goodbye
i still have work to do. something legal piles up.
an issue on international law. some circular reasoning
begging the questions. i lied.
in fact, i am still here.

vii

back to poetry. some metaphors are popping out
the ceiling speaks. a lizard shows its tongue.
speaking. come, come, catch me, i am a meta4,
this is absurd. the ceiling sings.

viii

8. this is the number that climbs up.
complete and round and round like two moons
up and above. over each other.
a monkey. a cat without ears and a hidden tail.
free thoughts. use the period. breathers.

ix

nine lives. do i get nine lives after twelve years
of writing poems? no it is not just twelve.
i am 49, and i will turn fifty, on the nth poem.
jalousie songs. palm trees opening leaves.
roots i hear roots ripping my robes.

x

this will be the last. ten. put an o. and you know what i mean.
the white people do not understand the power of (o) ten.
they do not speak the brown language. Or the black one.
stiff and hard and long. nothing lousy. or lusty. just clean fun.
a play with words. what can words do? did you say you cry?
this is the last. and you know very well. i have to go. i made
promises. i have Frost. And Neruda too. and yes, what about
myke O?

social studies. nothing about the P.... I'm finished.