Jona Branzuela Bering is the author of Alang sa Nasaag (For the Lost), a poetry collection of her earlier works. She is the recipient of a Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature for her Cebuano fiction.
Inheritance
His mom called, asking about his endoscopy this morning. The doctors found some sort of fungus in his esophagus. No polyps in the large intestine, like two dozens of siamesed chorizos in the photo. Nothing threatening, he reported. She survived three, her innards getting shorter each time. She got it from her father, he from his, this unwelcome guest that consumes everything if left undetected. He could tell she felt thankful and terrible about the news, of this inheritance she had no control over, of him undergoing the procedure every other year. I thought of my own mother who handed me something as well. Invisible. Heavy. And sharp enough to cut us through apart.
Visa Interview
I would not reply the consulate’s question with a canned answer, brined in my brown tongue for months, by Kalawisan, in the confines of my tiny room. I would not say I am pursuing my studies with a blocked account of 10000 euros, to cover all expenses in a year, an amount that could be stretched for years on this side of the world. Yes, I am coming back to my desolate country, among saltwater and dead bodies, where I belong. I would tell him the summer air was thick with the rancid smell of rotten tilapia. I would tell him, I am going to his country To fuck and to be fucked.