It is 1980
By NATASHA B. GAMALINDA
Inside this poem
I am trying to find out
what went wrong: everything is
in sepia, as it should be
in dreams where we see
in black and white, but then
something keeps on staining
everything orange. My grandfather
drags a dead leg towards his bed,
and I know am not born yet, only
I sit here on a couch forming
Le Guin’s brown wounded,
waiting for grandfather to turn
into a tree, which has always been
a probable ending, I think,
but then he interrupts me, begins
another story, Have you ever seen
so many tall bright windows?
Natasha Gamalinda joined the Varsitarian during her Junior year as a Literature major in AB. She was a literary writer during her first year, and literary editor in her second year. She’s currently pursuing her masterals in creative writing at the UP.

