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)
P I C T U R E S F R O M B A T A N E S • 5
IV. Sailing to Sabtang (con't)
II
Our earth legs and our behinds
Were tested on the shore, straight
From the whitewashed mission church
That greeted us right at the port of Sabtang.
Atop a tiny pickup truck we climbed
And looped the island: The world ended
And began between Savidug and Chavayan:
What sea legs would one need
When the world fell to the left of the truck
And rose again to the right, the cut rock
Hanging above our heads, and the sea
Spinning around us in the clearest blue?
And the sun glaring from the zenith, and we
Were the still point of the turning world?
Batanes natives contemplating the aftermath of a more recent catastrophe, an earthquake that crumbled the once hardy limestone cliffs. Top right, Mt. Iraya in Basco. Alex Baluyot
III
At three o’clock we left the foothold
Of port, the sheer drops of shale
And coral, to sail back to Batan.
Thefalua was populated half by back-
Packing natives on errands to the main
Island, and half by city slickers like us
On a jaunt, with our souvenirs and cameras.
At half past three the sea wowed us;
Before the afternoon ended it was battering us,
And we held on for dear life and souvenir,
Cradling under towels or plastic bag
Cell phone or camera, city accoutrement
Or tools of our trade, as the nonchalant natives
Eyed us, or pretended to ignore our predicament,
Or busied themselves with their light
Luggage—rolled blanket or rucksack or can
Of biscuit—they had come from or was going
On any day’s errand, they would sleep overnight
With a relative in Basco, or they were coming back
From Sabtang, and the roiling strait where
The China Sea and the Pacific met was all told
Really a ditch between this shore and that tangrib.