Closed Deals

By Maed Rill Monte

Mama splashes cheap cologne
all over your work uniform,
affirms her reminders and
you leave unkissed β€”
some twenty years?
Your face is darkened
by the rooftop rising
caught in the sun,
after a burst of foliage,
the dead, yellow leaves
wedded into nipa roof,
spiderwebs and fly carrion.
I see the inner child, tense
beneath the face mask,
the face shield, and
the fatherly features.
He's upset today's another
no-play day. There are
mouths to feed,
bills to pay,
and a world
he conceded to.

Maed Rill Monte writes from the Philippines. He lives a provincial life among kilometers after kilometers of vibrant rice paddies with books, music, and occasional internet.

%d bloggers like this: