Antique Books
Often, they yawn like bored monks,
leather-wrinkled, moth-chewed,
in second-hand bookstores.
These days, they find themselves near the counter,
gracing corniced shelves in hipster cafes.
Many can’t resist their sage plumpness,
their regal spines, Brittanic stance.
And some would go so far
as to reach for them, inspect the cover,
touch the ancient type, the illuminated drawing
of the explorer, adventurer.
But no one really reads them—
they’re readily returned as soon
as the latté or espresso arrives. No one even makes it
to the second yellowed page.
Gulliver never leaves the island,
eternal captive of tiny soldiers.
Rip Van Winkle sleeps on in the forest.
Scheherazade’s story will never begin,
the only thing keeping the eunuch’s axe
from chopping off her head.
Fireside
At last, I have freed myself
from the lure of conversations
and can sit by the fire on my own.
The flame praises the discipline
of the firewood, the branch
that knows when to fall
and burn. I hear its soliloquy
as it crackles: night watchman,
keen listener to the confession
of ember and ash,
and storyteller only to my dog,
who stays up late,
sometimes waxes philosophical,
replying in the voices
of my long-departed friends.
Fig Tree
What I couldn’t say to anyone
I whispered to the dying fig,
branches twisted smoke,
bark a wrinkled face
outside my window.
I watched the tree grow
with each telling
of my transgressions.
Morning leaves
for each untold crime.
An evening bud
for loves lost.
When they found me
in my cell,
the fruits hung heavily
from the branches,
with so much unsaid.
Ronald Araña Atilano is a Filipino-born poet who lives in Awabakal land in Lake Macquarie, New South Wales in Australia. His works have been featured in the Rabbit Poetry Journal, Westerly Magazine, Island Magazine Online, amongst others. New Ordinance for the Dead, his bilingual book of poetry in English and Filipino, will soon be published by Flying Islands.
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