I found your brown jacket in the cabinet
It smelled of mothballs, cockroaches, and grime
I remembered, you have not let me washed it
It was too dirty, you said. Then, you
Hung it in the cabinet despite the dirt
I took it off from where it was, checking
The pockets, maybe, for some letters you might
Have written before you
Left. Empty. I folded it
In my arms the way you would
Have me do with your jacket
And placed it back inside
But this time, I will also replace
your old clothes and
the feelings you
never tried to unfold.
—
Teresa “Maymay” Mundiz graduated with the degree in Creative Writing from UP Mindanao. She writes whenever the ‘urge’ comes.