Poetry by Noreen Ocampo
In my mind, I shatter
all of the mugs in our cupboards,
& the floor screams &
sounds just like you. My ears ring
with yellowed phrases
only forgotten when I lapse into
dream, so I carve would-
be retorts with a triangular shard.
I give you the truth.
I explain why I haven’t written you
a birthday card since
I learned how to write. Why don’t
you tell me the last time
you loved me, the last time I filled
you with a color other
than all your least favorite ones?
My teeth grind china
fragments into powder, the taste
only softened by your
oblivious flowers & bees. I swallow.
You will not hear me
today. I will submerge our dirty
dishes in water & gently
scrape a sponge over the cracks.
Noreen Ocampo (she/her) is a Filipina American writer double-majoring in English and Film Studies at Emory University. She is also currently a book reviewer for COUNTERCLOCK, a very amateur singer-songwriter, and an Animal Crossing enthusiast. In the future, Noreen aims to fulfill a role in the intersection between storytelling and education. She is a regular contributor for Marías at Sampaguitas.