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The voice that I blend with the face,
though I already matched
the spirit with the heart;
lit a match
looked for the form of you
in the dark subterrane
of my desire,
where you used to be
merely winged, I learned
you're both beautiful
and strong.
The accent that I rehearse,
like I would often recite
in my mind Fulghum’s lines
about the things he learned;
I ascend ahead of me to your cathedral,
ahead of me to your eminence,
when in truth I am still
among the fatal rush of my city.
The distance that I measure shortens
as watchtowers tick;
your summon pulls,
defies gravity,
each day I levitate
that soon I’ll be able to pinch angels’ cheeks.
I am not afraid.
I am not afraid to fall.
by Peter Paulino de V
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crystal face I kiss
tongue tastes like sweet cold rain
I fall into pond
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Apat Na Sulok
