Afterdark By Jonel Abellanosa

I could recreate darkness in a lit room,

like screen saver in my closed eyes.

I nicknamed the intravenous opioid

bumblebee, because my desire to fly

left buzzes in my ears, sounds 

making me think of electricity.

Cough syrup would make my body

boneless as the emotion in timelessness. 

I’d taught myself the reflex,

automatic feel of mushroom

from the bed, my skull a habitable

planet. Memory is a gibbous moon,

making me remember decades later

every image, pearls of weightlessness.  

I’m still the sunflower 

without the bumblebee.

Jonel Abellanosa lives in Cebu City, the Philippines. He is a nature lover, an environmental advocate, and loves all animals particularly dogs. His poetry collections include, “Meditations” (Alien Buddha Press), “Songs from My Mind’s Tree” and “Multiverse” (Clare Songbirds Publishing House), “50 Acrostic Poems,” (Cyberwit, India), “In the Donald’s Time” (Poetic Justice Books and Art), and his speculative poetry collection, “Pan’s Saxophone” (Weasel Press). He loves to self-study the sciences.