She Thinks You're Too Tall
.
.
sHe, bAres anD
broWns for yOu
.
By Kristine Buenavista (*)
D
she is a dying bridge
that coils at night to
hide your bicycle traces
because at dawn,
the pedals are owned by a circus.
R
she's told that you climbed a mountain
between Antique and Igbaras
and picked a grass,
named it after her.
S
you begged to learn poetry
but she pinched your nose and exclaimed:
"Paint your face on my skin. Your heart on my cleavage."
T
you gave her an anklet.
she lost it because she was jumping
up to the ceiling.
A
she thinks you're too tall,
that's all.
F
fcuk you.
Oops.
broWns for yOu
.
By Kristine Buenavista (*)
D
she is a dying bridge
that coils at night to
hide your bicycle traces
because at dawn,
the pedals are owned by a circus.
R
she's told that you climbed a mountain
between Antique and Igbaras
and picked a grass,
named it after her.
S
you begged to learn poetry
but she pinched your nose and exclaimed:
"Paint your face on my skin. Your heart on my cleavage."
T
you gave her an anklet.
she lost it because she was jumping
up to the ceiling.
A
she thinks you're too tall,
that's all.
F
fcuk you.
Oops.
--------------
(*) Kristine Buenavista is a poetess living in the Philippines.
.
