Tag: Jasper Nikki de la Cruz

My coffee is slowly losing its warmth,
so I dipped my finger inside the cup.
The coffee’s warmth surrounds my finger,
as if the coffee is breathing on my finger.
I circle my finger around the mouth,
cleaning all the brown-black stains.
Continue reading Coffee

Eight of us are waiting on a sun-whitened basketball court.
We’ve already warmed up and now we’re getting cold.
The game should’ve started fifteen minutes ago,
and fifteen minutes more, we’ll be winners by default.
The audience is impatiently waiting,
crowding themselves under the acacia tree,
evading the sunbeams from touching their skin,
fanning their faces with brown cardboards.
Continue reading Winners by Default

Rain like silver threads,
sweeps everything into silence.
Zinc roofs seem to be ripping apart
and the stench of the dogs is illuminated by their dampness.
Flies hovering around
twirling,
wherever my eyes are set.
Frogs are singing along with the raindrops,
raindrops are drumming the leaves of the takip-kuhol.
I watch the children
playing,
running beneath the white curtain of white veil
hanging on a clothesline.
Continue reading Rain

I want to think of something different,
different that has not been written yet.
Yet once I think about anything,
Anything goes, from birth to death, from there to here,
Here I can only think about everyone,
she, he, they, you, and I.
I want to stop thinking, because it is the same.
Same, like everyone else’s thinking.
Continue reading Anything Goes