Bankusay Seascape, 1940

—after Vicente Manansala ^#

Of longing: the shore, we can perceive, can only offer up metaphors—
A reminder that the waves can drown us and that the salt can be harsh against our feet.
Someone always looks out, waiting for the familiar flapping of a sail but it is only a sea eagle
That the horizon gives birth to, a valiant emperor of a deprived inferno. Each send-off
By the fisherman’s wife is always cast into suspicion. There is always a yearning
In each farewell: to plant a kiss on the cheek, a reminder to take caution.
Someone always grows anxious out of love. A poet once let himself be subsumed
By sorrow in the ribs of the coast: everything, even the heart has festered away;

that what can be recognized

As the brine are the pulsating forgotten memories of romance; whose epitome
Shall rise out of new jealousies. So there are those who gather broken shells,
Searching for meaning among the rough edges of gallstones. Here lies the history
Of solitude. How could one forget those fingers of ivory and heels cloistered by rose?
Even the names of past loves have been claimed by the coming storm, always bringing
The promise of destruction. The memories reside within a clenched heart like a scream concealed
In a blow horn—the tales of our first disappointments.Meanwhile, out in the sea, while deluded

With the belief of return, the shore will merely be a glint among
The salt—begging to be recognized anew like glances too-soon forgot.