for someone
who suddenly died—
when the midsentence
is punctuated
with perpetual ellipses
disguised
in the color of paper
you’ll abandon
with a word that hangs
and longs for a close?
How does one continue
to foretell somebody’s thought
or inkling
from a body that no longer moves—
an unbending shape
stripped off of its narratives
since its eyes have finally closed?
Arvin Ebdalin Narvaza is a poetry writer hailing from Cagayan de Oro City, Philippines. Poetry has always been the compass of his creative journey, guiding him through the vast landscapes of emotions, thoughts, and experiences. With great passion and dedication, he has honed his craft and he strives to share his voice with a wider audience. He published some of his poems at Dagmay, Bisaya Magasin (Manila Bulletin), and Habi Literary Folio. Currently, he is studying for his Ph.D. at Ateneo de Davao University.