is the TV's tense click in the crispy three am cold lusting after the blankets thuds on hardwood floor as my body moves about the house hunting for confections and epiphany the neighbor's cat on the table yawning to the smell of rotting bananas dreaming of long, yellow rats, paws chasing tails aside in silence I borrow a humble place from the universe's expanse listen to the little the first sounds of dawn has to say until morning finds me poised sage-like, in full glory a man of truth, wisdom this house, this world my private Bodhi tree go human, go your way leave me my livelihood
Maed Rill Monte is a nineteen-year-old poet from Philippines. His works can be read on Anti-Heroin Chic, Feral, and Trouvaille among others.
Litehouse 