By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

SARDINES used to be fully-packed without much room for liquid in a can. That was how the train was packed with people, before COVID protocols redefined distances. As a result of the decline in economic activities, the sardines in cans are no longer packed as before and have more spaces now to swim in tomato sauce. Along with rice and noodles, sardines became the symbols of government’s assistance during the pandemic. Now it has become part of the campaign goodies of politicians, along with cash.

 

The famished road

 

a glimpse of your existence

that’s what is important now

even if tomorrow you are gone

return at my door, years after

to pay me another visit,

to buy my soul, again

 

now means a kilo of rice, a pack of noodles

and cans of sardines, to live for another day

a big bargain for one decrepit old woman

and her cats who lost their skins

fending off rabid dogs on a famished road

 

I can be a patriot another day, another time

snatch your breath and some jewelry

and dip my forefinger in your blood

and write at your door, “Not guilty!”

Because truly you are not guiltier than I am

of the crime for which we suffer our own decay

 

The train

 

that sound scares

the rhythmic chugging, asthmatic whistling,

a broken rumbling, before the brakes hiss,

to an abrupt stop

 

the train has arrived

after rolling over, half-forgotten lives

packed like sardines, inside run-down coaches

running on rusty tracts, flattening, at slow speed,

those unable to move away from its one-tract path,

yelling, “Tangina mo, Joma!”, “Sige uwi ka, sampalin kita!”

Build, Build, Build! let us borrow for tomorrow

who cares about taxes and the sorrow?

open the gates, welcome “Wěi wěi”!

“Kung Hei Fat Choi!”, make way

Tan Lung sardines flooding in May

Share your Comments or Reactions

comments

Powered by Facebook Comments