the decades of Anigma Morandarte

anak: the Tagalog word for “my child”. a term of endearment. see also bebeko.

Anigma Morandarte is twenty-four years too old.
in her / white wedding dress / straight faced / with anguish
photographs plastered / at the credenza
my father / sitting on the organ chair / holding Anigma Morandarte / by her waist
she clutches / her pregnant belly / waiting to be torn open / at her womb
they wait patiently / for bebeko / my sister / to be born / too early
the same day / the Savior was born
Anigma Morandarte cries.
instead of myrrh and frankincense / the body of God / gives her / salt

Anigma Morandarte is twenty-eight years too old.
she’s standing / at the stove / of the basement kitchen
it is dark / there’s light / barely peeking through / the iced over window
but maybe everything is dark / when you are three / viewing through eyes / still foggy
Anigma Morandarte coughs / on the dust / she looks over her shoulder
the bird clock / little hand at the cardinal / big hand at the mockingbird
Anigma Morandarte / pulls the bagel out / from the toaster / two dark brown halves
it smells / like cold fire / the basement air /fills my nostrils / with ash
she’s holding a knife / she scrapes butter / from the silver tin
Anigma Morandarte cries.
there is blood on the white / there is a deep gash / cutting through / the diameter of her palm
Anigma Morandarte creams the bread / she is still crying / no sounds / from her mouth.
anak, your bread is ready / she walks to me / sitting on the basement stairs
I love you, bebeko.
i look / at the bread / there is still red / at the circumference
i bite / and i taste / her blood / and its salt.

Anigma Morandarte is thirty-three years too old.
the callous / of her own Mother / sitting on the white tile / of the kitchen
little hand / at the nightingale / big hand / at the owl
two bowls of rice / steaming from / the black pot
anigma morandarte cries.
she forgot / to turn off / the stove / the rice now burnt
her mother / screams at her / youngest child / of her useless soul / her unbirth / too old
Bandit / the family dog / sits on the white tile / with me / eight year old / anak
he is so scared / he pees himself / the floor / wet / yellow
Anigma Morandarte’s Mother / slams the dog / into his urine / rubs his face in it
Fucking dirty animal.
i do my best impression / of anak / and hold him / urine and all
when i press / his ears / to my cheek / i could smell / salt

Anigma Morandarte is thirty-seven years too old.
i cannot / see her / it is / too dark / eyes foggy / the bathroom door / standing between us
Anigma Morandarte hid / all the house keys / in the toilet / far from / anak’s hands
i can imagine / the bird clock / both hands / at the owl
my back / braces against / the bathroom door / my twelve year old hands / clawing at the hinges
mom, please come out, i’m scared, mom, i’m so scared. i hear water / running / farther away
Anigma Morandarte cries.
i sleep / in my sister’s room / the Savior / and we hold our breath
we think Anigma Morandarte could surely be dead by tomorrow morning.
little hand at the cardinal / big hand at the mockingbird / yet she sits / on the living room couch
good morning, bebeko / Anigma Morandarte smiles / there is breakfast on the counter.
i look / and i see / bags of salt

Anigma Morandarte is forty-four years too old.
she is miles away / i almost can’t picture what she looks like / at this time / in this light
the caller id interrupts / Anigma Morandarte / i press her up to my ear / and anak listens
bebeko come home, bebeko I have bread, bebeko I’ll boil you water, my anak I love you, anak,
anak / i’m anak but no other names / anak I need you, anak I’ll die without you / i am crying / no
sounds / from my own mouth / Anigma Morandarte speaks / and i can still taste the salt.

By Eryka Renata