He stumbled into her house -
bare concrete blocks,
corrugated sheets for a roof
without a ceiling.
"Mahal?*" she wondered, and cupped
his young stubbled chin with her
plump hand.
She was a widow of an
iron sheet factory worker -
his life stamped out by a machine.
Her two daughters had left -
married early by necessity,
four months between ceremonies
at the backrooms of the local court.
He stood weary in front of her,
towering two inches above
her crown of permed hair.
He was a student at the local college,
sometimes a drunk
and patron of the local sari-sari** store,
but more of a student;
she had demanded it.
"Have you eaten? Haven't you slept?"
She felt the sunken dark skin
beneath his eyes and rubbed his hands.
She felt the warmth of youth
in him
and she smiled
warmly in return.
"I have an exam tomorrow."
"Then you must sleep."
"I may not be able to take it."
Her eyebrows met in an unexpected frown,
and his hands tightened on her hands as he
stared at her pedicured feet
while he weakly voiced,
"I have nothing for tuition."
She looked around her house then asked,
"How much do you need?"
"I can't..."
"But you must. How much do you need?"
"Three thousand," and his hands tightened more.
"You must sleep."
"I can't with this burden."
"It's no longer yours," was her assurance.
"Sleep in my bed. Today you are
my son," she whispered softly in his ears
while she combed his hair with her fingers.
"When you wake up tonight," she embraced him,
"be my lover,"
then kissed him.
ievm Nov. 25, 2001
* Mahal - (Filipino) "Love", a term of endearment.
** Sari-sari store - (Fil.) A small store.
YOU ARE READING
Lady from Caluma Street
PoetryI wrote this to explore an unconventional relationship between a much older woman and her much younger lover.