pinsans and tender carpenter constructions

my mother asked for a coconut cage to be

built around my heart—early on a Saturday

before we're all overwhelmed by the Antique

heat, my cousins set out to build it; morning

sun already draws a sleep from the green, even

my shadow sweats a little. From the porch I

watch 2, 4, 6, 8 narrow faces with second hand

clothes and hand me down questions bring

homemade tools down from

the mountain. handsaws, nails, bamboo, more

bamboo, doubt, anxiety, fear. They will work

way past noon, when the sky is nothing but

fire and a gauzy humid haze. The chatter takes

blood from the sawtooth; chewing Marlboros

by the nonfiltered half, asking in Tagalog "Who

is this boy with such a fragile puso?"

When my aunt rubs my wrists with ginger root

her girls carry the skeleton key of an answer to

the Sulu Sea on a slice of pan de sal bread.