The tip of my tongue
Katrina Macapagal
My skin turns rough when trees
turn bare in this country.
The words linger at the tip
of my tongue when I speak.
I worry they hear fear. Maybe
I shouldn’t be here.
In bed I told you that a mole at the heel
means a thirst for leaving.
I remember other things my mother told me.
She believes in portents and rosaries.
She warned me not to sleep with hair dripping
or I’ll go blind and lose sight of everything.
You trace a birthmark on my chest
and ask if it meant I felt loss deeply.
On windows at high streets, I see
myself reflected in a sea of white.
Years ago, at the airport
I didn’t know I should have taken
more clothes with me. I should have
said goodbye to the house I grew up in
which I left as soon as I realised
the possibility of leaving.
My books are still there,
longing to be read.
Now I spend weekends
with the smell of bay leaves
in the kitchen and the hum of rice
simmering against the cold outside.
turn bare in this country.
The words linger at the tip
of my tongue when I speak.
I worry they hear fear. Maybe
I shouldn’t be here.
In bed I told you that a mole at the heel
means a thirst for leaving.
I remember other things my mother told me.
She believes in portents and rosaries.
She warned me not to sleep with hair dripping
or I’ll go blind and lose sight of everything.
You trace a birthmark on my chest
and ask if it meant I felt loss deeply.
On windows at high streets, I see
myself reflected in a sea of white.
Years ago, at the airport
I didn’t know I should have taken
more clothes with me. I should have
said goodbye to the house I grew up in
which I left as soon as I realised
the possibility of leaving.
My books are still there,
longing to be read.
Now I spend weekends
with the smell of bay leaves
in the kitchen and the hum of rice
simmering against the cold outside.
Born and raised in Manila, Katrina Macapagal now lives in Edinburgh with her partner and daughter. She has a PhD in film and media studies and is the author of Slum Imaginaries and Spatial Justice in Philippine Cinema (Edinburgh University Press, 2021). She likes writing poetry, short stories, and creative non-fiction.
|
supported by
|
awarded
|