Poet Shalom Galve Aranas


    Shalom Galve Aranas is a freelance writer from Manila, Philippines. She has been writing for a decade now. She has been published in The Lycan Press and Former People. She was also published in a Philippine anthology of young writers after going through workshops with the UP Creative Writers’ Workhop and The Silliman Creative Writer’s Workshop in the southern side of the Philippines. She lives with her two children.



    Old Wives Tale
    (from watching Atonement)

    The way James Mcavoy looked at the sea
    of dead children?
    Is that you?
    The way you were filled with such disgust
    Over flies
    I saw your profile pic
    the way you didn’t like the lake
    maybe, there was no fish
    like everything else.
    A dirty mouth
    Talking of dreams
    And a tired dead, dead
    You were raised to think of walking
    by the sea and smelling
    of an old prostituted woman
    all the same
    until you met me.



    Crying On Christmas Day

    I would want you to see my Christmas
    photo, but everything
    conspires to make me cry,
    My mother a thorn on my side
    I pull with tweezers
    But she keeps putting them back
    Again, and again and again.
    My son is going to leave
    with a simple notice.
    He boxes the cement wall
    when I ask him if he’d
    greet his Pop a merry xmas.
    I imagine you reading my poem instead
    Because you will see rivulets
    On the sand of the close dead sea.




    These Poems Are For You

    These poems are for you
    because I love your dry mouth
    your driest humour
    your homosexual ache
    I carry each night you need
    something I cannot give
    in the driest sense.
    You ask me if I married you
    would I ache
    no, I reply
    because I just need you too much
    when you gave me something
    I never imagined would work.
    That old faggish comfort.
    after a dry break-up
    I’m glad I wrote this poem,
    Don’t you?





    If you turned into a wolf
    and said the same things
    when we were children and you appeared
    to make yourself known
    I’d still say the same things,
    Your fur spun like gold
    with words
    dripping from your bite
    I would ask to dance
    with the wolf
    and the boy
    I met on prom night
    when no one would dance
    with a girl wearing the thickest glasses
    anyone has ever seen.
    What have you seen little girl?
    in the deadest sea
    sand stuck in the rim
    of your glasses?




    Today you told me a story
    worth telling
    I worry
    you think
    this is payment for something
    or you just want me there
    to listen and listen well.
    I write fast before I think
    too much
    Someone did that to you?
    Now I worry would
    I do this to you?
    Am I wicked for writing
    fast before I think too much
    because I do listen well
    ever since high school in
    all girls’ school
    and secrets are payments
    like candy pops.