I look for you in songs,
in jewelry, in photographs.
I look for you on my tongue,
in drawers, in trinket boxes,
behind the lamp, the door,
in the pocket of your dress.
I look for you in daylight
until the air is too thick to breathe.
It is there my wrists limp and I gaze
in between books on the bedside table,
hardbound, softbound, the heart,
its chapters, the epilogue, the ending
its last page.
I look for you on paper,
on the dial pad, in the mirror,
the doorbell, the soft chair,
your glasses, Asia and the big big Pacific.
(c) Sam Roderick Roxas-Chua