whither the body, which I am now

“…Since [Duterte] took office just over a month ago, more than 420 people have been killed, 154 by vigilantes, the rest by the military and the police. …All were murdered in cold blood.” ~ The New York Times, 5 August 2016

and whither the soul
which I become uncertain of

is it the watery star
of the squid’s tentacles

that elusive bouquet
trawling and luring

in time with the tide
is it the star

that seals its mouth
upon the dust of every

bloodstained road
or the prayer breathed

through yellowed curtains
and widows’ veils

whither the soul’s shanty
in these dark times,

in those dark streets
where bodies perish

where their splayed limbs
form dark pointed stars

whither the good breath
the body used to make

snuffed out gone under lips
stitched shut— what mute

star could witness now
without recourse to law

 

In response to Via Negativa: Vessel.

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