Death Fantasies

just last night i went to a coffin maker
to ask for a casket reservation,
he asked me the size i would prefer
i chose to have some adjustments,

there i envisioned myself
lying inside my casket,
wearing mother's white Sunday dress
people peeking at me,
hearing their eulogy
and cold teardrops hitting the casket's glass

there i envisioned myself
an eternal rest
freed from his arm and fist

there i envisioned myself
becoming my own Cinderella when i’m dead
beautiful and adored
with red lipstick
concealing the scar
on my lower lip

there i had my lovely little things:

pin cushion,
empty bottle of perfume,
a wilted white rose,
and a Nuremberg egg
clock pendant
still
keeping
time


Undertow

He was sitting on a white chair
in a deserted room on midday
I stood behind him
and we witnessed the crisp leaves falling
from an old mango tree outside-
the cold wind gently brushed our bodies

he lifted his right arm
pulled my hands to his chest,
my fingers were trembling
as though they were wilted stems
i tried to undo his grip-
but he was strong ,
his arms wrapped around me vise-like
and his kisses-
engulfing, devouring, hungry

he pushed me on the white wall,
his hands on my breasts as he hooked me,

as though angry waves were penetrating,
biting the white shore and recoiling
rush,
smash,
dash,
and crash

I gathered myself
in a cold embrace

his haunting shadows,
his breath echoing off the wall-

there were my silent tears,
a crumpled 500 peso bill,
and a crimson dot on the floor