I miss you

by James Miraflor
November 21, 2007


Fire and Water. Nina Gabriel. October 2006.

I miss you.

The stars I look at during the nights
I haven't heard your words, they
miss you.

Everything about me misses you.
The snap of my fingers,
the book I'm reading,
the papers I have to finish,
they miss you.

My coffee misses you.
So does my pencil. My computer too.

The World Bank as it assails the Arroyo
regime is both a political act
against China and an
expression of how much
I miss you.

The privatization of the power
industry is not just selling government
assets, its also an obvious
manifestation of how much
I miss you.

I miss you, like I miss the
friendship of a star, distant
and unyielding.

for MVT

The Sea

by James Miraflor
Boracay 4.10.08, 17:30



The sea, its bluness and
whiteness and endless contrast,
imposes itself like an
indifferent sovereign on an
alien universe.

The gilded radiance of its
sunny dress, clothes the land
as if it was its own,
its own conceited smile,
reveling in the motion of
the light.

The pains of its wide jaw,
eating fishermen's boats,
as a child would eat
berries and nuts,
in a kind of selfish way,
never minding anybody's
business.

And all that existed with it,
the fluffy white moles on its teeth,
marks made by intruder vessels
on its blue lip - fast to heal,
and the bloody smear of
its calcified grin as the sun sets,
reveal its infinite arrogance,
stamped on moments
eternally recurring.