Despedida for the Last Despedida

In the Philippines, we abolish goodbye parties for Filipinos

who don’t want to leave—become overseas Filipinos.

Every colonizer wants to be remembered—see our country

whose name is a Spanish king’s name. Philip in Filipino.

The smell of mined dirt is gone. Chevron swims back

to America weeping. We watch, laughing—us Filipinos.

In a monsoon, we bring Andrés Bonifacio’s glowing bones

to a sugar plantation. There: an army of peasant Filipinos.

Their first 53 years spent lovingly burying piles of land-

lords. Every bloomed mango belongs to a farming Filipino.

My grandpa left & didn’t come back. Years later, I lay

in the river he washed in—my body, like his, Filipino.

His last name is my middle name, Verzosa. Spanish

as am I & millions       of  breathing             Filipinos.