Never Be Unveiled

basil and sunflower

2023年4月27日 15:58

First published in RIC Journal, April 17, 2023

Misstep is a poem created by KS.
It consists of five stanzas.

The poem starts with the phrase that indicates
the relationship between I and you
like this:

I’ve been watching you, bird’s-eye view, walking . . .

What is I?
Is it a bird?

Anyway,
I could be stalking you.

Then,
a typical scenery of a slum is
vividly described
in the first three stanzas,
where I can imagine something like
a theater stage.

I’ve been watching you, bird’s-eye view, walking
this forsaken street to god-knows-where, walking
this crooked street on which sidewalk (northbound)

beehive of thin plywood pieces topped
by corrugated metal roofs topped by tires and rocks
to keep them in place. They keep them in place.

The narrator is I.
Then, what is I?
Is it a bird?

I stand with my best impression of a dignified vertical erection.

I’m small consolation, a two-month-old token project
courtesy of Quezon City Hall, with the assumed function
of making this street safer.

So, I is a lamp post in the slum of the Philippines.

And, generally speaking,
lamp posts are supposed to make streets safer.
But, here in the slum,
its role is contradictory.

It depends on perspectives,
because there are the predators and
their prey in this locality.

From the perspective of preys,
they are assumed to make the street safer.

However, for the predators,
the lamp posts are helping them see and hunt their preys better.

And at night their little children play hide and seek,
and their adolescents seek and destroy and bleed.
I’m small consolation, a two-month-old token project
courtesy of Quezon City Hall, with the assumed function
of making this street safer. Or helping the predators
see and hunt their prey better. Whatever, I stand here
alone with my best impression of a dignified erection.

The monologue of I describes its observation on you . . .

with a polo shirt,
formal pants, and shiny black leather shoes

You’re one of the few anomalies in this neighborhood
of shanties

The two pickpockets, ex-cons . . .
used to tease you every time you pass by, envious.

as well as the inside of I

And I’ve been watching you, bird’s-eye view.
Took a fancy to you . . .

It explains why
I stalks you.

I is stalking you, because
I came to love you, because
you is different from others here in the slum.

Who is it considered the predator?
Who is their prey?

Then,
the fourth stanza shows
a very short drama between husband (you) and wife,
that ends up a catastrophe.
It seems to be a criminal case resulting from his affair.

I appears to be a witness, or an observer . . .
or whatever it is,
I seems to be innocent,
and just hears the conversation between the two neighbors.

And last Friday night,
the two pricks, after pissing on my feet, talked about you
and your wife, and the police car and ambulance
that paid your home a visit earlier at dawn. You
had another, they said, and she had a stormy fit
that the weather bureau failed to detect, much less name.

I is a lamp post . . .

--still unbending with my dignified erection.

and I looks from a bird’s-eye view.

--and the maya perched on my head . . .

Because I has its own maya.

But, the poet does not disclose until the last phrase that
there is the maya, sparrow in Filipino,
on my head.

So, what is the relationship between I and the maya?

The words and expressions the poet chooses are metaphorical,
some of which are even provocative, and
inspire my imagination.

For example,
mayas can be understood as children.
Both are feral creatures here in the slum.

And, if hide and seek is the metaphor of the illegal activities
conducted by those feral creatures,
I even facilitates those activities,
if not provide the opportunities to dare to act.

(As if this depressed neighborhood gives a damn.
Except perhaps for the little children who benefit
from the extra playing time, at dusk, that I “facilitate,”
as to “provide” is too pompous. Those feral creatures,
playing hide and seek, and whoever’s it cheats every time:
looks around even before “Ten!”)

And at night their little children play hide and seek,
and their adolescents seek and destroy and bleed.

Therefore, the maya perched on my head
can be one of the children in the slum
who is exploited as well as
provided foods and
shelter by I.

In this case,
I is somebody who puts the slum
under its control, and searches for a prey.
I finds you an easy target for its prey,
but it doesn’t work by itself.

Instead,
I uses its maya.
It has its own maya.

Even after the thing is done, I was never arrested.

Here is the last stanza concluding the drama.

This Thursday morning, a rare wind blew and swept
pages of a week-old tabloid to my feet. But I can’t read it
from my bird’s-eye view; still unbending with my dignified erection
- and the maya perched on my head was illiterate.

I behaves as an innocent bystander
claiming that it can’t read it,
because the maya is illiterate.

And nothing is told about what exactly happened to you.

“Misstep” describes explicitly an incident that resulted from an illicit affair,
and implicitly suggests,
and provokes with imagery that
the slums is where illegal matters occur in secret.

The title “Misstep” has the following definitions: First,
an act of placing your foot somewhere in an awkward way. And second,
a mistake, especially one that is caused by not understanding a situation correctly.

The former is his step into the slum.
The latter is his affair, or the consequences of both.

I have never been to the Philippines, much less its slums, but I’ve conducted some field surveys in South Asian urban areas where informal sectors were prevalent, along with persistent rumors of tragic incidents that befell the residents constantly, and I drew on my experiences in writing this piece.
Therefore, my interpretation is completely irrespective of the poet’s intention.
I convey my gratitude to the poet who allows me to quote his work.

Below is the full text:
(Bold words mine.)

Misstep
I’ve been watching you, bird’s-eye view, walking
this forsaken street to god-knows-where, walking
this crooked street on which sidewalk (northbound)
I stand with my best impression of a dignified vertical erection.
(As if this depressed neighborhood gives a damn.
Except perhaps for the little children who benefit
from the extra playing time, at dusk, that I “facilitate,”
as to “provide” is too pompous. Those feral creatures,
playing hide and seek, and whoever’s it cheats every time:
looks around even before “Ten!”)

This street of the slums of the un/semi-employed,
teems with the lumpenproletariat: men naked
from the waist up, sizzling with the sun all day,
playing streetball or downing gin or both.
And at night their little children play hide and seek,
and their adolescents seek and destroy and bleed.
I’m small consolation, a two-month-old token project
courtesy of Quezon City Hall, with the assumed function
of making this street safer. Or helping the predators
see and hunt their prey better. Whatever, I stand here
alone with my best impression of a dignified erection.

And I’ve been watching you, bird’s-eye view.
Took a fancy to you who walks with a polo shirt,
formal pants, and shiny black leather shoes.
You’re one of the few anomalies in this neighborhood
of shanties: beehive of thin plywood pieces topped
by corrugated metal roofs topped by tires and rocks
to keep them in place. They keep them in place.
The two pickpockets, ex-cons whom they can’t seem
to keep in place, who pee on my base when drunk,
used to tease you every time you pass by, envious.

The past month you’ve been returning home at night
later than usual, and the past week I haven’t stared at
nor shed my incandescent light on you. And last Friday night,
the two pricks, after pissing on my feet, talked about you
and your wife, and the police car and ambulance
that paid your home a visit earlier at dawn. You
had another, they said, and she had a stormy fit
that the weather bureau failed to detect, much less name.

Karlo Silverio Sevilla, Eternal Remedy, November 13, 2016, and its first anthology, Harvest, March 15
https://eternalremedy.com/misstep/