Simplicity, albeit through chaotic voice and grammar form after Typhoon Haiyan.

Body Count


I am getting enough
Sleep.  Pursuing work-life
Balance.  Say to my students
Your essays will be scored
Don’t worry.  They are expecting

10,000 or more to be counted
After Typhoon Haiyan
In the Philippines.  Days later
The stench hovers and seeps
I have lost everything

The only thing, pulling, dragging
Counting.  Introductions, bodies,
Conclusions.  Exasperation has
Transformed into toil.  Water
Supplies and sewage intermingle

Dying for a drink.  Headaches,
Moans, sleep and searching
Salt stings the eyes.  Evidence
Bobs bloated in the cistern
After class, lines of them

Pounding stakes into mud
My family swept away
I held her hand until I couldn’t
Anymore.  Nothing.  The walls
Are down in Tacloban

Sitting at my desk, smug
Crates are dropping from the
Clouds.  I have what I need
There is nothing to do but
Count.  Identify.  Zip them up

Nothing left to balance upon
No paths to follow now
The fishing boats are buried
At sea, the only thing to think
Upon is under the surface

One fist, then another, pulling
Dredging deep or skimming
Wondering if style or grammar
Or just the content in the net
These are someone’s loved ones

Reduced to a score.  Hopefully
Yours will be recovered
As they rise or turn at shoreline
By a friend or brother, laid
Gently down in a pit

Ormoc, Cebu, Baybay
So close, a family
I will visit them tomorrow
But first, under this tree
Muddied, bowing my head

                   Stopping count

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