In memory of Amador ‘Dandy’ Gregorio

 

It is night and the pier 

Is like an island enclosed in light. 

A friend and I stopped here, 

Perhaps after the after-hours

Diversion in the town,

To let the sea breeze wash

The beer from our consciousness,

Perhaps to take up our 

On-and-off conversations—I don’t 

Remember now. From where I stand 

Under the pier lamps, I can see 

The backs of old men seated, 

Hunched on the parapet on one side, 

In a pause of complete peace and 

Attentiveness as they await

The tug at their lines. 

I cannot see their feet dangling 

Above the water. I can only hear 

The water lapping at the knobby

Knees of the pier underneath:

The ocean’s throaty gurgles

And then the foam’s long drawn sigh.

I cannot see Kapuntukan Hill portside

Beside us, its flanks looming, 

A lazy lion staring at the gulf of the dark 

From this corner of the Pacific. 

Under the lamps, I cannot see

If it is a starry night. I do not 

Know what this means—nor 

Can I recall a remark you made,

What was it you said? We go places

But we never leave—this memory 

Of an island enclosed in light.

 

 

Marne Kilates 

(11 May 1999; rev. 30 Nov 2019)

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