Ayn Francis dela Cruz

The Veil

As on a wedding
the bride dons the veil
and walks to her groom
on the altar
where false promises are set
in stone.
 
The veil seems ephemeral
caught on a loose wind,
caught on a tendril of hair
to wound again
around her shoulders
 
where afterwards he will hold her
steady as he lifts the veil
to look within.
The bride he sought
who hid from his eyes
 
will ever afterwards take
to the veil
the absolute truth
the absolute secrecy
the mock wedding of stone
that turns
the fluttering veil.

Love

Lion-like this mane
of hair he combs for dandruff
man- -this must be love.

Ars Poetica

No,
the poet does not
live in a beautiful
world, a perfect
world,
does not always
see the bright side
 
Nay,
too often it is
the dark she sees,
 
Not rainbows
and stars,
but what lies
beneath the smile,
 
The danger hidden in
the warm embrace,
and the hunger
that resonates
in the deep, dark caverns of
the belly
 
And you wonder
why her art
has woven itself
into beautiful forms
befitting more
an angel than a
demon
 
It is so she
will not be afraid
of the emptiness
so she can
convince herself
that there is
really more to
life than
this:
 
The poet is really
useless
cannot do anything more
than write
cannot wish for anything more
than life
 
What life she has
is embedded in 
her poetry
and what poetry she has
is only snatched from life
who once upon a time
has stolen her
from herself

7-11

A child is sprawled
outside 7-11
I try to walk by
but I can’t.
His face is mine
his lips mine
his nose mine
his sleep mine.
 
Tomorrow the child will be
my child
and as he pushes himself
out of me
I give my soul to him.
 
Today, he pays for my sins.
He lets me go to SM
and enjoy the cool air on my skin
while the dust and cockroaches
kiss his privates.
 
I wonder where
his father is
I wonder at the arms
that failed to hold him.
 
Tomorrow I will pray for him.
Tomorrow he will be my child.
Tomorrow I will shade him
from the world.
 
Today he must bear with me
must bear that I will look 
away.
 
For I am only him
am only a child sprawled
on a corner
and my tin can begs
and begs for love.

BIO:

Ainne “Ayn” Frances dela Cruz, 22, is a lecturer at De La Salle 
University-Dasmarinas and University of Perpetual Help-Dalta System. 
She is currently studying for her MA in Comparative Literature at the 
University of the Philippines. She was a fellow for the 7th UST 
National Writers Workshop for English poetry. Her work has been 
published in Kanto, Kilometer 64, Philippine Graphic, The Literary 
Apprentice Light, Philippine Panorama, Perlas ng Silangan, The Argotist 
Online, Paliparan, Nimrod International Journal, The Bathyspheric 
Review, Rumble Microfiction Magazine, The Flask Review, ANI 33, Zone, 
and Blood Orange Review  with work forthcoming in Shades of Gray and 
Milflores Flash Fiction Anthology. A vegetarian-bum-poet, she spends 
her free time walking the streets of Cavite.

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