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About this Poem 

“When Yolanda hit the Philippines, I felt devastated and at a loss here in the States. This is a poem to stand in solidarity with those that lost so much.”
Sarah Gambito

Yolanda: A Typhoon

How much our hands are God’s

to be running fingers over braille cities.

We are this hand pushed through our womb.

Weeping with each other’s blood in our eyes.

I dreamed that I slept with the light on.

I was asleep in my mother’s bed because my father was out to sea

and my claim on him was to feel the frets of my death sure to come.

Sweet, small fishing rod. Ears of wind rushing through many jellied trees.

We were on this cardboard earth with its puffing volcanoes

miniature baseball players and horrible winds

scored by musician’s hands.

Stand in the strong ear of this love.
 

Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Gambito. Used with permission of the author.

Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Gambito. Used with permission of the author.

Sarah Gambito

Sarah Gambito

Sarah Gambito is the author of Delivered (Persea Books, 2009) and Matadora (Alice James Books, 2004). 

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You will transcend your ancestor’s suffering

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Hair stands on your body. 

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The bread is warm!

A child is a blessing!

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I had a canoe that took me into the forest I read about. It was fleet and I asked no questions. I saw the careless embroidery of the sky above me. I was small. I was embracing. And I was dear all my life. My instrument is silent. I never learned to play. But it sits poised in my arms like an amber deer that I'll

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The best thing of all is to take the enemy's country whole and intact.
My mother took my heart out.  She banked it on top of her stove.
It glowed white.  She put it back in my chest.

Tita knew that overseas workers often had affairs.
He licked me and I pretended it pinged through my body like a swift idea
That

collected in

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On April 25, 2015, we will be copresenting