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Suppressed
by Geejay Arriola

The coldness is seductive
as the red Nippongo flower
on my table shared.

A water faucet drips
a shameless memory
of warm bodies
writhing in water pools
undone.

Bronze and gold
my skin melts
the scars, tiny white spots
of desire suspended—
a Yakan joke.

What way to pay
for sensual secrets lying
beneath the fires
of "huwom" blessedness
in solitary display
like red Nippongo flowers
dying from the cold
tomorrow.

 



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