Manille

“The manila envelope is ubiquitous in modern record keeping 
... it also embodies a history of global trade, war, and colonialism."
                                ~ from Off the Record, Guggenheim Exhibit,
                                   April 2 - September 27, 2021 
 

Why do eye and ear seem to hearken more kindly to words 
finished in a different tongue?  Seductive ends: vanille instead of 
vanilla; Manille instead of Manila— this name given to paper 
recycled from rope, its fibers culled from banana plants. Deep 
turmeric yellow, bales of hemp harvested from abacá crops 
in that colonial outpost in the far east. So much use for the ships 
and banners of war, for new sources of commerce! And envelopes 
in which to slip bills of lading, terms of consignment or lease; 
contracts that renewed even after flags were pulled out and folded.  
Flaps seal shut with two metal teeth biting down, or a cardboard 
button fixed with a narrow length of cotton twine. Once, we walked
through the walled city and its tourist-washed cobblestones,
certain that every merchant in every shop had reams of these
in drawers and filing cabinets. From the ramparts, a view of the bay
and the setting sun, coronet still desired by every kingdom. 
In a restaurant named after the enlightened ones, we stopped 
for ice cream with essence of sampaguita flowers.

A spoonful turned our mouths into high-
vaulted cathedrals, where incense smoke 
wafted, ghost-like, in the triforium.