Anthony Kintanar

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Keeping Time

The sudden can be quiet.
And it seems like all the things
In my life were pointed
At the single moment of meeting
You here. But we both know
That's not true. Still I listen
To you sharing profound tidbits
Of yourself, your voice lulling
Me (somehow) to dreams shaping
Silent paths, and I walk down wishes:
To write, to master symbols, perhaps
To call magic to simple lives, like birds
To a saint's hands. I find myself noting
Our slightest sameness, pairing
Them like a ring around a finger.
How I wish then to breathe the air,
Even to just take a jeepney ride
With you, to somewhere in the South,
Anywhere. But all moments are brief.
As you tell me softly you have to go,
I strap my sandals on, wondering
How to keep time.

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