to the arbo
retum, read the
names of ironwoods,
vines that carve trans
lucent shadows,
light flooding the
house in a haze
East of Eden?
I want so much
to forget that
girl on the train.
Have the leaves and
their foreign i
dentities sim
mer in my tongue,
off the spinning
chair, far from e
choes, pangs. I won't
sneak back without
you knowing, write
Latin science wo
ven in verses
like you did. I
only want to
bask in the sound
of daylight, your
voice swimming in
the silence you've
fallen into.
I want to think
of Baguio. Me
ditation cards.
The storm and the
lamp that plucked Ba
boo's daughter from
her womb. Not the
girl in the room,
on that late train.
Will you take me
to the arbo
retum, call out
ancient names, them
that dies once they
depart your lips?
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