i still love what
your mother asked:
where did youcome from?
why are your slippers muddy?
now you are a woman
gone away somewhere in Arizona
living with a lesbian partner
growing flowers and
writing poetry
then your mother died
somewhere in Davao and in her
deathbed you are asking
the same question
again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem