What remains of our more recent differences, those
saturated words fallen from the lacy cuffs of our noble tongues, the
sound-filled garments and raspy lingerie custom fit
for implication and blame – what remains

but the pungency of battered verdicts, the jesters
of white noise and spicy hung detachment, the
midnight winds of halitosis fouling casted spells:
an alphabetic bouquet of gambled persecution,
the weight of which we transport as we fade away

© Tamara Natividad | | Written 3 July, 2017



Clouds drift atop the stimulus of life
– mindlessly numb voyeurs –
blindly present
vaporously absent from blame


© Tamara Natividad | | Written 17 November, 2011