Lawdenmarc Decamora


Tunnel #9 (April 22, 2019)
after a 6.1-magnitude earthquake hit the Philippines

After the quake
this poem of the garden
of worries about my place
or the people trapped inside
the supermall in a city
who know nothing about
the screams of pigeons
the movement of insects
the waltz of seismic
grace notes & diodes
that map the memory
of April 22, 2019
in the unexpected.

After the quake
cries of children deserve
the attention of live chickens
crowing time from afar
lonerism in the walls
of buildings becomes
the unstitched silhouette
the distant fears
nearing to shed tears
the quibbling hours
soft against earth-rattle
the cancelled flights
in this station, this sting
of general anticipation.

After the quake
we are thankful
we more than listen
we more than trust
the whether or not
between our toes
we more than douse
ourselves in the lights
of burning binaries
from clouds above, now
tunnels in the tunnels
trembling underneath.




Lawdenmarc Decamora is a ‘Best of the Net’ and Pushcart-nominated Filipino writer. His works are forthcoming in
Seattle Review, North Dakota Quarterly, The Common, Comstock Review, AJAR Press, diaCRITICS, and in the anthology What We Talk About When We Talk About It: Variations on the Theme of Love (Darkhouse Books).