Toys, Robert Fuentes larger version

from ta(la)ya | Craig Santos Perez

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every Sunday the families and friends of the prisoners came to barbeque at the farm

 

he remembers a game they played called batu –

            “make your hands like this” he says:       “a cup”

 

he stands and steps away from the table             bends slightly to cast a handful of imaginary quarters in a

perfect arc

 

           

“do not worry about the american bombings                     they cannot possibly win the war           the japanese

will win the war                your families are being protected by the japanese at manengon    you girls have

been chosen to serve the Taicho and afterwards you will be rewarded       the americans have bombed and

ruined our beautiful island          agana and agat no longer exist                      so do your best to serve the

Taicho”

 

           

forced into caves at Fena            –  group after group of soldiers   

            grenades, bayonets

 

            – and in the caves at Tinta men and women hide beneath other dead bodies

 

“maila, maila” the soldiers said to make sure everyone was dead [come, come]

 

[no, play dead. close your eyes. hold your breath]

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