OLAN-OLAN
By Luisa Igloria

     Kung sudlay tinapian
       Natayak kang nanhakyan
          Kang way mana sinul-an
             Anamag wadi bulan

                 My comb that I like so well
                 When I bathed was left behind
                 Going back I could not find
                 Searching in the moonlight spell

     - Mangyan Ambahan

Daughter, moon—
mother, your heart
is a garden
where the Buddha
has gone walking

From under the wet
leaves, bromeliads bend
their lunettes, compose
their store of moisture
and tears

You plait your long
hair by the window,
taking care that the pearl—
handled comb does not fly
from your hands

The trees are full of spirits

Agitated frogs call out
to each other and you take
the littlest one in your palm,
hiding with it in darkness
under the bathroom
sink, where draperies of soft
scum and velvet mold line
the tiled horizon

The sky has enough stars

Considering their numbers
they will let you stay in the world

Each brushstroke from your fingers
loosens a handful of dead cells,
turns the air electric with stabs
of returning light

for Julia Katrina

© Luisa Igloria

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