FISH THORN TEARS
Mother and I wrote letters
to each other; some hurts
were impossible to say
out loud. I wonder
what grandmother buried
under ground beside coins
of gold. I wonder at secrets
women pass each other,
folded in fists, coded
in notebooks. All my life
I spoke in whispers,
afraid to be wrong,
and words shriveled in my throat:
fish thorn tears
swallowed down
til a sea churned within me.
Now I hum, dream of screaming,
my voice warms to fever pitch.
Pluck thorns and bleed
on red ground seeded
with broken silence.
Cut yourself open
and spill.
Christine Fojas is a Filipino-Canadian hailing from Las Piñas City and currently living in Metro Vancouver. She has a BA in Comparative Literature from University of the Philippines and works as a library technician at Douglas College. A list of her publications can be found at her website. She also blogs at christinefojas.wordpress.com. She is a regular contributor for Marías at Sampaguitas.
Comments