Memory with Water

By Jessie Raymundo

The lower half of a figure stands in shallow ocean waters.

For now let’s talk about sinking
cities, said my mother
who carries a pair of Neptunes
in her eyes & paints about phantoms

in Philippine poetry. Gravity is when
the psychiatrist assessed you
& heard a heart murmur like rain.
In an instant, you were in the sea:

a merman sticking his head
above the surface, swathed in salt
water, standing by for austere arms,
like a remembrance possessed by echoes

of phantoms playing on a record player.
Almost always, there are greetings—
at sunrise, say hello to clouds, to sparrows,
to the maps of music you made in your mind.

& when the morning arrived as a Roman
god of waters & seas, you finally crawled on land.

Category: Featured, Poetry