Melissa

August 9, 2007

 

In a square inch panel,
We watch her die.
The bushy man pinions her pelvis
to the crimsoned floor.
His barbed thighs
cleave at milky, supple skin,
as his insolent tongue probes,
prods, and trespasses.

Frayed between bones and concrete,
We hear her screams.
Muted by the same
technology that bestowed us 3G,
stayed the specter of AIDS,
and cloned an unsuspecting sheep.
The bushy man snickers, while he squeezes
the twine that stifles her hands.

A peppery liquid fell
From the crack.
With nothing to scratch, she cut
into her palms.
Wishing pain could subdue cruelty.
Wishing she bleeds dry.
 
Outside, the shadows descend
on the Arabian desert. The breeze hip-hops
and tangos over the soil.
Cold toes kissing blisters as it carpets
silhouetted avenues.
A spattering of laughter
awakens the night.  

The  throbbing rod
Pushes inside her.
Inexorable in its single-minded purpose.  
The ache streaks in concentric
pattern from her loins to
her skull, consuming the air around her.
Corrupted by that single thrust,
the climax of all fairy tale stories
abruptly impeded by the words
“they lived happily ever after,”
as the princess falls
to the arms of her prince.
His foul breath treaded on the promise
To the love she left behind.
Her body knew nobody,
yet callused hands now  
Sullies her neck, breasts, navel.
 
As the bushy man thrusts,
She remembers Jun-jun who has
school fees due next week.
 
As the bushy man thrusts,
An image of Mama flashes,
her drooping breasts no longer
holds the juice of life that
sustained all her seven children
even as hunger ravished her
once-lithe arms.

Of the days when they slept with the firewood
remained unlit.
As famished tears blended with the piss
and sweat on the mattress.

Of rendezvousing politicians,
the legs of their pretty mistresses
high up in the air
in homage to his manhood,
in reverence to his pockets
as Inang Filipina,
her flag-like frock
scrunched up to her waist,
get sodomized from behind.
Over and over.

The bushy man ejaculates.
Her belly contracted to deny
an unfamiliar progeny
of dunes and black gold.
She senses it
Shooting up from her vagina,
to her cervix and to
God knows where.
She hears belt being buckled
as she huddles in a
fetal position,
closing her eyes tightly
in supplication to
the diety who ditched her:
"Please,don't let me
bear his child."

From somewhere,

she hears his fading footsteps.
The paved floor creates
a different resonance
from the bamboo slits back home,
upsetting a memory.
Of her mama walking slowly
away after tucking her to bed as
the treacherous bamboo floor
always stirs up the cat.

She reaches out for
the sheets to wash herself
of him, knowing it's
pointless.
She could still smell
The bushy man's stench
from yesterday.

And tomorrow.
Tomorrow, his friends will come.

No longer will she feel
an innocent kiss.
No longer will she welcome
a fleeting touch without cringing.

 

 

P.S.

To "Melissa" who got raped by a fucking Arab in Saudi: You don't know me and I seriously doubt you will ever get to read this but I'm sorry for the nightmare that you're in and for your dreams that we trampled. Vice President Noli de Castro already instructed officials in the Philippine embassy in Saudi to come rescue you. Could you please make way for them? They need space to bend over and pull down their pants as they allow your rapist to butt-fuck them again for the chance to send more like you to their deaths. Oh, did you know your favorite government officials are investigating how you managed to get there? Seems like it's going to be your fault why you got raped.