The Terrorist In Willimantic, Connecticut, Usa
n the autumn afternoon a wound festers in the crack of
by Sonny San Juan, Jr.
the asphalt roads in the city
once a pasture field for the native Pequot Indians
What fraud and deceptions do the window-curtains hide?
Doves and pigeons do not know the color of hope
My cigarette stubb I interred beside the Bridge of Frogs
while the traffic procession headed for the Foxwood Casino
owned by the survivors of the massacred Pequots
But why does the Abu Sayyaf sneak into the mind?
In the Fall's twilight hour something sneaks into memory's fissure
filled with apprehension and terror
before we journeyed to America
(Translated by the author from the original Filipino)