Seizure That Cuts Across A Boy's Dream

I remember you crawl into the world through my mouth. I kneel into the night as

a hymn before God's feet begging for a song, with dimples deep enough to bury 

the dead birds in my dirges. In the waiting months, I turn all my worries to hibiscus, 

and plant them on my mother's tommy. This way I kill the glory of my doubt and 

polish my hope with sunlight. All the closed doors in my body open and 

welcome the butterflies that fly out of my mother's mouth each time she sings. I 

could see the face of a song forming like bubble as I wash, sometimes she giggles in

the bucket and paints my face with rainbow. No doubt, I love the

rhythm of her smile. I swim in this lake of fantasy till it turns into what I could touch.

This time all my hope was a broken sandal I couldn't fix. I go into the nights as a 

leaf trying to cross an ocean. I slip off the hands of flowers and lose all the butterflies 

in me. I didn't know that God could be a disappointment. Everyday I give my body

as collateral to God to cut across this night that leaves this moon shineless.