June 12, in Prison

Translated from the Filipino

the back and forth

doesn’t even span five meters.

I suppose I’m lucky

the windows are a little bit big.

from here,

I have watched

how fast

the beans grow

when fertilizer is put onto them.

the whole afternoon

is worth a pack of cigarettes.

in between puffs,

I struggle with words.

must read

must write

must listen

to the words, words,

words with no end,

with no bound.

I must remove

my brain

from my head.

I must find

the words

and pinch them between thumbnails,

like head lice.

when will the words

stop sipping

my blood?

never again, I hope.

never ever.

I will even let it

drip, drip:

rich, thick blood

from my skull

iii

am I here

to taste the long beans?

I bet they’d be delicious

especially if cooked as adobo.

tomorrow, boiled egg again

for breakfast.

that’s why I must,

must read

must write

must listen

to the words, words

words that breathe

in (and out!)

of these rusty bars.

the here and there

are endless, boundless.

for the words,

words, words, words that create

words, words,

words, WORDS!

meanwhile,

I empty the afternoon’s cigarette ashes

into a tin can.

the small flicker

lengthens

my life.

Notes:

This poem was originally published by Words Without Borders and is part of the folio “Broken Lines: A Gathering of Exiled Poets,” curated by Laura Kraftowitz and Edward Salem. Read the rest of the folio in the July/August 2026 issue of Poetry.

Source: Poetry (July/August 2026)