Over dinner, the salted wounds. The loud slurping of misua soup filling up
the room. Over dinner, fourteen hands on one table, trying not to touch. A
chilly weather. A family of ghosts. Over dinner, the slicing of silences,
crumbs falling into the mouth of a hungry cat sitting under the table. Over
dinner, another wave of anger, face tomato-red. Can’t help returning to
last night’s scene. Sharp words flying across the room. Bleeding arm. A
bandage. The giving up. The who’s leaving? The pushing of each other’s
body out. More bandages. Over dinner, the static of empty mouths and a
lot of flinching. Elbows sinking into your lap. Over dinner, a warm hand
reaching out. Looks at you like a poem she doesn’t understand. Over
dinner, more silences. Your father putting another slab of meat on your
plate. You, pulling it apart with your fork. Over dinner, the denial. The
avoidance. A puddle of nightmares just sitting there. Over dinner, the
stopping midspoonful to scratch the aches away. Peppered words. Sautéed
tongue. The shrinking of a body. A slow disappearance.

© Rizzalyn Bernarte

Rizzalyn Bernarte is a 23-year-old business editor from the Philippines. She first began publishing her poetry on Instagram (@literizzature) three years ago, and now, she is already working on self-publishing her own poetry collection, In the Belly of a Beast, through Amazon KDP.