beneath sun I am daywalker / a neighbor across the rice field / planting gabi & fresh lemon  grass / at night I shapeshift aswang / a violent hen / night dog hanging / in the willow of trees / thin as the bamboo poles’ stalking / breathe beneath the midnight mud / they say I consume babies when I hunger / replace their daughters with sculptures of tree trunks / I smell of new bark / crawling against old skin / raking scars & stretch marks into her flesh / I open my fanged mouth & fall in love with every woman in the village / whose mother’s tongue does not own a name for me / a hill of blue flies crawl across my face / the pisaw spills my thick oiled blood / an offering to a nanay who wishes me quiet / who demands I stay away from her daughter’s bedroom.

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