THIS POEM WAS WRITTEN BY CIRILO F. BAUTISTA.
The sea cannot touch me now
nor the sky
in this room whose arms are
your arms
They would spell the night
I took you for my wife
I do not think of candles in that church
Though they were there
the priest the words though they
were there
I think only of your sad
beautiful face following
the nothing there/the nothing
to construct our lives with/hoping
the singing birds would come
and house among its branches
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