Rain Song


It's okay, you say,
as I lift the umbrella over your head.

I like the rain, you said,
your curvaceous body taking space beside me
as we walked, overcast clouds overhead.

I put the umbrella away, watching the sky
sink into gray seas: the trees
the seaweed and you and I
no greater creatures than fish
awash near a concrete Katipunan Avenue coast.

It is near dusk, and the drizzle
doesn't let up, and we
are closely walking.

Rain calls people closer, I say,
watching everything - friends and lovers
under umbrellas.
But since we didn't use one, what were we?

You ignored me, pointing instead
to oil-slick rainbows on streets,
with your small slippers under your feet like the pot of gold -
little things I notice not right away.
We walked and you were near,

and your soft hair smelled like earth,
like soil that will one day
cover you, cover me,
cover our bodies on our deep descent down.
It's true:
your hair smells of death, of endings, of destiny.

Then and there, watching little things,
I watch water wash over our cheeks, necks, backs,

and my hands want to do the same,
my fingers like falling fire,
your breath the hearth I will call home,
your skin sanctified like a last supper
my mouth craves to consume.

But it is raining,
you walk forward to shade, and I
am always, always
a few steps slower,
a few steps behind you.


current music: True Faith - Bukas Liligaya Din Ako