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.
