Written by Jeff William Acosta.
None knows how I like to sleep at night
even our mom who would say to you: ‘Your kuya sleeps
like a baby, all curled up from his head to his toes,
sucking his thumb comfortably.’
no. she was lying
already in the bed and I was still preparing to fold
my body, from edge to edge
—my obsession. I learned in my 20’s
to contort and make my failures
into thousand creases, a thousand ill
-advised carvings of constant folding and flipping.
in this chasm between my eyes
forming thousands of paper cranes, all cooped up
on my belly like flies attending a supper
off of a freshly dead body, beneath the teeth
of men that made our father’s
knees sink in an ink-black mud
like it was his last confession.
the way Stephen knelt and let Paul throw stones
at his head while still believing
that God would save him
from the flies that are already there, sniffing
at their next prey.
Jeff William Acosta is a Filipino poet from Ilocos Sur, Philippines. His works have appeared in Vox Populi, Revolt Magazine, Lumiere Review, and others. Find him at jeffwilliamacosta.weebly.com.