Nobody Does It Better

Conchitina Cruz

First published in Salt Hill 27 (2011).

I am walking down your blathering alleys, July.
I am busting your light bulbs
and coloring your gray stones
gray. I agreed with you early on,
you know. Nobody does it better.
And so you
polish off my vegetables
and I say, why not.
You screw in the same loveless positions
and I say, knock yourself out.
O July, full of hearkening
and obedience and varieties
of never, I am counting on
your traffic lights and cutting off
my cords, I am playing
your piano keys and tonguing
your toothless grin.
Tell me what you need.
Tell me your infectious secrets.
Tell me about one and one
more and let’s split the difference.
Tell me while I slip you off my back
and slide out of bed to brew coffee.
I’m listening.
I am listening and counting the ticks
and cracking my knuckles.
The day is crackling like spit.
The dust has nothing better to do.
Are you done yet, July?
Are you sure?
I am sharpening the pencils now.
I am smoothing out the pages now.
I am tossing your clothes at you now, July.
Wash that look off your face.
Be on your way.

Conchitina Cruz was born in Manila and teaches creative writing and literature at the University of the Philippines in Diliman. Her books of poetry include Dark Hours (UP Press, 2005), which received the National Book Award for Poetry, and elsewhere held and lingered (High Chair, 2008).