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Isis In Quiapo

I dreamt you found me at last
And in your dreams I turned to light
shed radiance everywhere
—Kaze nori

I am the gatherer
of lost things, the one
who patiently scours the alleys
for clues to your whereabouts

Some days I come across
heaps of leftover food—still
warm buns, shreds of a meat
patty bearing the imprint
of teeth; carnations
beginning to smell,
at their stem-tips, of salt
and old excretions

In the rain I peer into windows
of slow-moving vehicles, trying
to remember your shadow

It haunts me even as I string
petals of beheaded flowers--
their dismembered bodies
gone slack and filming
the onyx waters under
the bridge

For all that, faithfully
the river reflects glass and iron,
smoke, the teeming avenidas

The moon rising
or sinking,
a stone

© Luisa A. Igloria

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