Poetry: Three Poems by Troy Osaki
A Weekend in Which We Organize, Again
I.
A yellow Seafood City bag—
our tsinelas bundled inside.
We pack to stay in Portland
overnight. In our luggage,
my beloved’s hairbrush
beside my deodorant. We
drive until the wind smells
of the Willamette River—
a harbor wet with starlight.
II.
LyLy loans us an air mattress
we inflate in her spare room.
The window, curtainless. We
hang a malong we’ve seen
worn around a tita’s waist
in Tarlac. Again, I’m there—
standing in the countryside,
sandals stuck in a pit of mud.
III.
In camping chairs, we sit
huddled around a space
heater. I lay my overcoat
across my lap—stare into
the projector light leaked
onto the white board. I
read mass organization
& my legs bloom
stalks of rice.
IV.
Kenneth asks where we
imagine ourselves once
we’ve won our country.
I pop the blue lid off
my tupperware, lift
a ladle of nilaga out
the pot. LyLy wants
to plant trees
everywhere
a bomb has fallen.
V.
I kneel in moonlit dirt,
dig up a carabao horn.
The land is, again, on
the ground. Not braided
into the hair of children
evacuating—June air
filling their summer
mouths.
The Morning Kian Misses His Exam I Take a Tabo Shower
For Kian delos Santos
I scoop a small bucket
of lukewarm water
from a plastic tub.
In my tsinelas, I lift
my tabo, pinch my eyes
closed, & pour. Nearby
a seatless toilet, a drain
on the concrete floor.
My hair scrubbed
of sweat until
I sweat again. Between
us, the CR door. Marco
cooks cubes of tocino––
the gas burner seems
a star we still have
left in our country.
About Troy Osaki
Troy Osaki is a Filipino Japanese poet, community organizer, and attorney. A three-time grand slam poetry champion, he has earned fellowships from Kundiman and the Jack Straw Cultural Center. His work has appeared in the Beloit Poetry Journal, Hobart, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Poetry Northwest, and elsewhere. He writes in hopes to build a safe and just place to live in by uniting the people and reimagining the world through poetry.