carry the children of your past
you cuddle in your slumber
—monsters, they are
we see, they are
you hope that I:
birth you swords and armor
cold water,
silver, salt, garlic
warmwarm blankets and a crucifix;
when you thrist for happiness—
I am bursting with your fantasies
biggerbetterbolder in your dreams
than bedside beside you.


pen on paper, Keso
text, Anna Miguel
© The Panagtagbo. Base codes by Fearne. Tweaks by AMC