If she asks you
If she asks you who I am, tell her. Tell her
because she is not starting a fire for an explanation but a confession.

If you tell her I was just a girl you dated
for a couple of years, she will only give you a hard time.
The hundreds of photos tagged in your outdated profile and the stack
of books with our names written will be her allies.

If you tell her I was an old friend, she will only hear
half of what you say. She will recall how you looked at places
with a tinge of regret and a shade of nostalgia. She will remember
how you skipped a certain song ― a reminder of something you’ll find an excuse
not to tell her every time the car radio is on.

If she asks you who I was, lie a little,
because she is not crossing the line for answers but for assurances.

Don’t tell her how our lips played with poetry and how we dared
to dream under the light of the taciturn satellite. Skip the part where we
fought dragons together and how we named each other’s scars.

Reserve the fact that you still keep the letters, notes, old restaurant receipts under
your drawers and some tearstained thoughts at the back of your pillow. She doesn’t need to know
why you reread past conversations or why your mother mentioned me at the family dining table
just to ask you what I have been up to.

Finally, if she asks you who I was to you, tell her you love her. Put her in the limelight
because she is testing you to pull the trigger pointed at her

But you won’t. Instead, you will tell her she’s beautiful to compensate
for the words you never had the guts to tell me. You will tell her she’s a keeper, for the hell of it.
You will tell her a poor research about human cells being replaced after seven years so that one day,
I will leave no trace on your body.

She will then forget that you mentioned my name while sleeping. She will wash the lipstick stains
on your bedsheets and remove the extra toothbrush in the shower. She will ignore the way you twitch
every time you hear a familiar author or my favorite curse word. She will fill the spaces
of your fingers and plaster kisses at the holes of your chest. She will replace every scent of me
with her own promises, insecurities, and mistakes.

She will do this. She will, because when she asked you about me,
she knew I was the ghost of the house. And at the back of your head, you wanted to tell her
that the ****** no longer need saving. But by all means,
darling, she can try.

—

A. A. Dizon

Where's your lady?
asked the chimpanzee
the bear looked askance

the tiger growled
zebras rolled
macaws looked in trance.

Where's she
your lady pretty
queried the lone rhino

it's not good
this solitude
roared the lion with raised eyebrow.

Did you lose your way
this November day
when the sky's blazing blue

this fair weather
you aren't together
how come asked the shrew.

Your face it shows
shouted hippos
this fine day of November

boars did grunt
scowled elephant
you're lost without her.

They were so true
alone at the zoo
emptiness surrounded me

daylight though gold
sky blue bold
I roamed unhappily.

I see myself in the poppy seeds and the playful trees -
In the dying grass,
In the crisp, singing breeze;
Under the breadth of sky,
Atop the breast of the sea;
In nature’s right hand -
Free.

So gentle, so innocent. Young butterfly, i love your soul. Carry that nector, and carry it careful. Without you, life lacks beauty.

In the darkness,
Reverberation
… empties silence.

… tap; … tap; … tap.

The tapping?  
The pendulum‘s grandeur;
A passive state… to time.

Low, slow,
… distant echoes

A bid
… to serenity’s seduction.

Sweeping circuits,
Lap …long,
Against a pebble filled beach.

The tide calls;
Whoosh;  
…whoosh;
…whoosh;  
…whoosh;

Such foreboding waves
Call.

Surrender;
Approach,..;

Remember…;
Return…,

Taste …
The salty- sweet
… water’s sway.

Ache for desire;

To expose
… forbidden love’s impoverished tears;

An enchanting lure,
… hearkens

Come; … far
Beneath the rocky cliff.

My heart;
Wanting … ;

But no… !
Sanity holds…

It’s…  not time.

A snare’s line rings;
Time moves…;
… tap;
… tap;
… tap.
Time, waives protest
… to this recital’s longing embrace.

Home,
Simply composed;

A love’s submerging refrain.

A door,
… stills, open.

A room;
The keep;

Through a corridor’s long shadow,
The silence speaks,

Pride’s measure
… ticks.

… tap;
… tap;
… tap.  

Old tatters
Curtains dance.
Soothing drifts
…cool salty air.

… tap;
… tap;
… tap.  

A calm state;

Moonlight.

Relics of a heart;

Composing drama plays to shadows;
Cracks on old plaster walls.

Glimpses return
… where waning movements hide;

The essence of sound and silence
Intertwine.

An old window-seat
… gives audience to the stars.

In eyes of youth;
A young girl‘s heart… lives

Once more.
Time falls
Moments recede.

Ah, my love;
I hear the Harp’s comb play

As gentle as a sigh,..

Rolling Home…; Rolling Home…;
Rolling Home  across the Sea

A vow, misspoken;

To wait…;
Still…  

… tap;

… tap;

… tap.  

Golden hair;
Your fancy to heather’s yielding flow.

A hundred long strokes;
As… soft tenders weep.

An altering hue;
… fades of time.

Gold;
Silver;
Now, twists shimmer of soft white pearl.

Time combs these long old satin strands.

… tap;

… tap;

… tap.  

Youth now spent; To wear once more
Soft lavender, love-knots.

Ribbons flow…

Aging wrinkles where once
Plump lips reach desire;

Now, the gentlest breeze
… plays prey of a beating heart

Memories.
Take to flight.

… tap;

… tap,  

Yesterday is almost here …;

Years abandon
… to the dew scent heather;

Eyes close
To such need

… to touch.

To…

To…

… tap;

… tap;

… tap.

Do you remember when I told you I never dream?
Now I can’t stop these ******* dreams of you.
Dreams that start mundane enough:
a trip to the store; a walk about campus;
and suddenly, you.
Where you shouldn’t be.
(I thought we drew an imaginary line down I-29)
Sometimes you call out to me,
and others, you pretend I’m some stranger,
instantly interesting in my mystery,
easily forgotten in my absence.
Invariably, I approach.
Invariably, you’re not alone.

Who is this brown eyes, stupid smirk, gold watch?
This pressed collar, boat shoes, jawline?
I ignore him and focus on you.
“Why do you haunt my dreams?
Does my waking mind not chase you enough?
All I want is rest.”
Sometimes you laugh at my childishness,
and others, you and jawline stare at me blankly.
Invariably, I ask for a private word.
Invariably, you oblige.

“Why are you here? Why are you always here?”
“This is all in your head”
“Even more reason I deserve an answer;
an honest one–though you were never too good at those.”
A pause.
“I’ve never lied to you,”
“Sometimes I’d omit parts of the truth,
and others, I’d spare you minor detail.
Invariably, you’d rest easier.
Invariably, you’d dream of me.
You always did.”