I ask about what falls away.
I ask about where water sings.  
Here is surplus of sun, ocean  
of excess, remaindered song.  
Whose hands wash this sky?  
Who drains this sun against worry?  
Whose mighty ache makes history?  
This is where water drains,  
where gardens grow against  
worry, against the crisis of capital,  
& capital knows nothing but the  
veil hiding hand from profit. Here  
is leftover rice. & the wild imaginary  
of hunger. Here is a canal in  
the crook of the earth. & here is  
where water sings. & this, this  
is water singing us elsewhere. 

Copyright © 2023 by Jason Magabo Perez. This poem first appeared in the virtual exhibition “Profits Enslave the World: Philip Vera Cruz, the Manong Generation, and the Migrant Laborer Experience” by Welga Archive/Bulosan Center for Filipinx Studies, Fall 2020. Used with permission of the author.