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Melanie Agua

Mirrors Underneath

Anonymity has giant leaps
that makes one vanished
and would not be tracked,
like soap bubbles busted.

It's a cushion for a repose,
when one's name becomes
too clutched to a shy neck,
booked for public's fancy.

And what fame embellishes
something must reciprocate;
that each concrete passage
has mirrors below the skirt.

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Unimpressed

Unimpressed,
even though you discuss
and sketch details
of a wedding in Africa,
a honeymoon in Madagascar.

Indifferent,
inspite of the words
flavored to knock
such a cold distance
between us.

Suffused!
Your money is hanging
from my neck;
candle dinners, roses,
classic operas.

If only, dear...
we can be quiet

[...] Read more

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