I will never speak to my father
again. I will die on this hill.
Except I will not.
I will die in an alien country,
oceans away from the monsters
who claim they are my family.
I will die afloat in the Milky Way,
lightyears away from the family
of monsters who are claiming me.
I will die sweet and effervescent,
leagues away from the claim
this monstrous family is pressing about me.
Will they even live to see me die
I will speak
to sewer rats, to fire-breathing dragons, to toilet ghosts.
to rattlesnakes, to yacht-flipping orcas, to AI chatbots.
to the living room chair, to the tip of my nose, to a glass of water.
But not to the void.
There is nothing I can say that will be heard.
Heather Ann Pulido is an indigenous and bisexual author from Baguio City, Philippines. A longtime student journalist and content writer, she is a returning literary artist. Her poems are in Moss Puppy, Sage Cigarettes, and JAKE. When she's supposed to be writing, she's taking a long walk or doom-scrolling on Twitter (@heather_tries).