I.
In Laguna, you wake me up at dawn
to pick wildflowers with you
on the coconut meadow. As we walk,
tumbling from flower patch to
flower patch and stems between
our fingers, I tell you what each
is called: the magenta ones,
malatungaw; the little violets on
wicks, kandikandilaan; and
the pale butterflies with
the fragrance of ginger and
sampaguitas, kamia.
Later, in bed, you ask me
what these are, the itchy
grass sticking out of
the hems of our shirts and
all over our shorts. Amor seco,
I say, meaning, “dry love”
in Spanish. Seeds which latch onto
any passing hair and
thread of yours with the hope of
finding themselves elsewhere with
you, eventually.
Tomorrow, will you
remember all
these names I’ve told you?
II.
Back in the city, you
are gone and so are the flowers
we picked together. But the amor
seco remains, on my clothes and on
my blankets, wash after
wash, its countless seeds like
arrowheads pricking the skin
of my calves and
thighs while I
turn restlessly in my
sleep.
March Abuyuan-Llanes is a writer and poet from Quezon City, Philippines. They have work in This Is Southeast Asia, Ghost City Review, Haluhalo Journal, and elsewhere. They are the editor of LIGÁW anthology, an anthology zine of militant poetry from emerging LGBTQ+ Filipino writers and are a founding member of Kinaiya: Kolektib ng mga LGBTQIA++ na Manunulat. Besides writing, they are a peasant advocate of Artista ng Rebolusyong Pangkultura (ARPAK). You can follow them on Twitter and Instagram @magmartsa and find more of their work on magmartsa.neocities.org/writing.html.