i dipped my dryland lips
on my wound that made people laugh
like a bomb-ticking by the same
number, over and over, like an idiot
whose brain-willing, rover and rover
but stuck at the same room
of the same reason of nowhere
and with some side stories i wasn’t
able to read. again, it doesn’t matter.
i dipped my dryland lips on my wound
the first time i learned how to play
an instrument and blow and made
a song i was able to hear by myself,
not to worsen, but a melody
to soothe my broken,
that could lessen what was
drawn or written in my dryland skin.
wound is the first instrument
i learned to play when nobody
was there for me. some
say for eye-collection and attention
but again, it is for myself all alone.
life was black and white and
staying one side could blind
you all your life, so look for a place,
with a seamless force but with
some graceful too, where
light and dark both crashed
and married and you were
their child too, and you will know
at the heart of it, not the end of it,
what you’ve been looking for.

…

Adonis Alegre is an Ilocano poet who writes in English. He resides in Bacnotan, La Union. He took his Bachelor’s Degree in AB English at Don Mariano Marcos Memorial State University, Philippines. You can read his poems in Panitikan PH, Querencia Press, Livina Press, Levitate Magazine, The Poetry Lighthouse, among others.