bearing serene scorn by Zo Estacio (17, Philippines)*

i. treading on clovers, rich in birdsong / the sink of a second system & seeing / the aftermath of a starful non-existence. / we crawl back to our senses, pardon / the touch of feathers, the dew-light / flutter of their wings / soft / like the dreams we (should have) had. / now i am your broken mirror / & your hands fiddle— not /  knowing where they belong / this is the start of my antagonizing / a multifaceted beauty, because / a pen & two colors are my only way / to you. ​

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there is nothing quite like loving / you / in the midst of the white noise / of the world. 

ii. is there a way to feel / darkness? to feel the future swoon in all ways that hurt? / when vastness envelops my entirety / in the most loving manner, the splendor / of breathing is buried in dirt and heaps / of time— waking up to a sunless, breathtaking /  brightness. 

in this enthralling dream / a thousand years beyond, i had / outgrown and woken up to everything /  i ever wanted. i was a holy rapscallion / of privilege, i was a volcanic ache in the midst / of luminosity / there is no wound but i still bleed 

& there is nothing to do but ache.


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