We take so much longer to come home
in the cavern of distant voices,
magnified as they echo and bounce
from one wall to another.
Each drop that comes from the folds
of the clouds
—drips from the night sky
and onto the asphalt below.
We lay naked,
for everyone to see.
Yet they close their eyes.
We whisper, bite our lips.
Quiet.
Make sure nothing is heard
but heavy breathing
—and it takes us too long to come
home, where only you and I can
let whispers hum and grow
loud enough to let our voices
be heard.
*Shishikura majors in AB Literature. Her poetry collection, which included the above poem, won her the Poem of the Year award in the 27th Gawad Ustetika under the pen name Mitsuko Kitagawa.
