Poetry by | March 31, 2013

The professor wanted to wield a katana
many years ago. But even then, he understood
that the world has long since moved on
and that a sword is a thing of the past.
He adores olden blades that are kept undrawn
inside their scabbards. In his sleep, he dreams
of himself in battle, unsheathing a blade
that is as bare and as inconsolable as rain.
He crosses swords with a hundred warriors
in the heart of his moonless slumber. Later,
when he awakes, the professor can only
jump out of bed. Outside, the sun is vengeful
and daylight shoots through the window
like ancient arrowheads.

Allen hails from the Creative Writing program of UP Mindanao. He is a fellow of numerous regional and national workshops, and is a regular contributor to this section.

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