bayot


the pig’s blood / boils on tita’s stove

vinegar steams the ceiling wet / with typhoon

I hold the brown / in my mama’s elbows

as we stir the pot / of black intestines

sauce dances & cooks / the American

out of my stomach / until my mouth returns home

cha-cha as we roll / sliced vegetables into

rice paper / tita, teach me how to turn

again? / see how my body dances

with women / how the ocean returns

to my hips / when warm breasts

guide my heavy / tongue

kay nakakatapon ito hira

stay away / from the gays, iday

they are contagious

tonight / I grip lola’s rosary

tight in my palm / let the Tanauan

tsimosas chant bayot / bakla

claim the sour / sweat of my cum

a holy awakening / to a gold-toothed

crucifix / my weeping crescent moon

screams for a past lover’s mouth / until

mama drags my pale / into sea

& the ghosts hold my queer /

while I float in their grave

Tita Lynn’s Ghost Teaches Me to Tie My Shoes


tonight, we sleep at the cemetery.

bring chicherias, fresh pandesal, and lolo’s Red Horse

beer to the headstones. a ceremony of dancing

with ghosts. of burned wax staining cement coffins.

we unearth our mouths, our favorite tagalog

love songs be a prayer beneath bintana.

i am the 4 year old child of a white

man’s mouth. walking into my mother’s

ocean for the first time. the sound of

sakayan engines. calloused fishnet hands.

dig my ears into water. mama teaches me to pray

to my ancestors. I list each spirit’s name

I can remember. even tita marie olga. chant,

until the red ants swallow our legs whole.

John Doe
Poet, Independent Writer
IN CONVERSATION WITH
Isabella Borgeson