mosquitoes will rise

brilliant mangoes under the sun seek
my tongue… sweetness patiently wait
to seep through the flesh and drop into
empty pockets to displace the bitter
memories of floods, unaccustomed
typhoons tearing rooftops, shaking
down every bit of foundation; and the
unfortunate, speaking from their drowned
spaces, struggle for one last to survive
against the fervently undulated waters…
i still remember… more than sweetness,
only bitterness linger even after deepest
rain have subsided and the city wait to
recover from the dampness, the humidity,
as though any minute, the mosquitoes will rise