Poetry&Stuffby
MARNE KILATES
MARNE
S
KRIPTS
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
from
Antinostalgia & the Tokhang
Rhapsodies
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
Poems 2022
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
From Mga Biyahe, Mga Estasyon
From Journeys, Junctions
(a collection of travel poems)
Antonio Luna's Unforgettable Night
1
When dawn tints the horizon
its faint light barely reaching
the shadows on the cobblestones
When all the capiz windows
are shut but one from where waft
strains of Mozart or Mendelssohn
then
“La Bella Filipina” by Ignacio Masaguer
“La Sampaguita” by Dolores Paterno
when outside not a soul is stirring
The party almost ends except
for her looking out at me
the gas light fringing her hair
And her mestiza dress
the embroidery on her sleeves
the transparent piña and satins
Wrapping her in vaporous gauze
only moments ago she was saying
my name in that languorous
manner of hers why
couldn’t I stay longer
when she knew I couldn’t
​
2
I gaze at her now in my memory
of all Manila’s Christmas Eves
the dinner table never cleared
But replenished for the late
or the lingering guests and the couple
slipping into the dimly-lit hall
I gaze at her now riding her
horse to a trot down the Malecon
or coming out of her swim
Down Ermita beach her hair
reaching just below the waist
and coming up to me her fresh
skin smelling of tanglad
or the young rice flakes whose
fragrance I cannot forget
​
​
​
​
(Poem conjectural & partly found
in Vivencio Jose’s The Rise and Fall of Antonio Luna)
​
​
3
I gaze at her now at a fiesta
in Sampalok, at Capitan Ambrosio’s
house running to me after a dance
in the rustle of satin and brocade
her cheeks flushed her eyes
drawing me to their vertiginous
depths
as she catches her breath
near the window and hands me
a rose I couldn’t stay I said
my luggage was ready
my passport was in my pocket
my poor mother had cried silently
Next day I was leaving for Paris
for Spain and Europe
that other half of our world
4
I gaze at her now, briefly in my
memory, as I enter the grounds
of this quiet church in Cabanatuan
27 November 2015