MA. CHRISTINA ISABEL ONGPIN
coming home
THE AUTHOR HOLDS THE COPYRIGHT TO THIS POEM. THIS IS POSTED WITH PERMISSION FROM THE TRANSLATOR.
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for my dearest Maita

with the two of us naked, standing bare
on this cold, tiled floor
face to face,
chests heaving, our nipples taut and firm—
i kiss your closed eyes
and my tongue traces wherever your tears flow:

somewhere in the planes of your mind,
a memory flickers; a memory of opening doors,
of entering rooms, opening doors again
and then finally closing them.

you raise your hands, my palms on yours
the countries of your skin welcoming me,
a stranger discovering, finding her way home.

let me look at you now, tonight:

your hair no longer tangled seaweeds shored
that speak of mermaids drowning, of lost ships,
of sinking bodies crying in gulps of air;

your eyes, your eyes are two black moons
rising full, rising full;

let me look at you now, tonight.

let me taste milk flowing down your thighs,
vanilla on your skin—let me in, let me in

as i look at you now,
oh let me look at you now, tonight,
let me cradle your sadness
with my hands and then wash them away;
let my mouth bathe every scab, every scar
on each fold of your skin.

let me look at you now, tonight:
let me take you—wife, child, lover—
let me take you home.
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