Mobile Church

The jeepney has an entry way and corridor 
leading to an image of Christ above the windshield.

Here, a poor boy serves like a sacristan. 
He cleans the passenger shoes as if to make them holy.

When his service ends, he raises his palms 
not to pray but to collect for alms,

Before his altar, he looks up  at the Christ
gazing down on those seated.

He leaves but another passenger gets in
with his own Bible and pouch.

Glow

While the flame was there, she left,
like smoke dispersed by the breeze.

He is left with embers, wavering
against his breath, the wind.

Remaining seated,
he watches the death of a glow.

Independence Day

A holiday excuse is coming, flags notwithstanding,
do you recall the answers to serious questions
from your last exam? You failed again, thinking memories
are so volatile and your recall of the national anthem were
like a game of jigsaw puzzles, singing the wrong lines at the wrong time.
What did you do with that Chinese media guy now
that you are in Hong Kong? Right, it has nothing to do
with Disney world. Don't shake my hands for now.
Everything American seemed to have caught a virus-
their peanut butter, stocks, and airports.

Another Project

Hands, clapping, voices, boisterous,
high-fives, and a document, signed:
after this, I worry about you and me
if we are to see each other again.

Soon, this room will host others,
after blanking whiteboards
and removing papers posted on walls.
The hours had been logged, accounted for.

I am losing you like a re-assignment
to a new room, another set of numbers,
deadlines, late meals, delays,
and change requests.

Maybe, you are like another project
I need to close down to move on.