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 