Mt. Mayon
by Soleil David
It is not Pompeii yet.
Not the stew of magma
& rainwater. How much
the wind knows of ashfall,
the spine-tremble of bedrock.
Mark the naked fear in the snakes’
eyes as they descend the mountain
uncoiling. Mark the intake before the gale.
From elsewhere, mark the burning clouds,
how they resemble Magayon holding her beloved.
At twilight, mark the glow of lava pouring down onyx canvas.
Soleil Davíd’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Arkansas International, Sinking City, Post No Ills and The Margins, among others. Davíd was born and raised in the Philippines and received her B.A. with high distinction in English from the University of California, Berkeley. A VONA/Voices alumna, she has received fellowships from PEN America, Bread Loaf Translators' Conference, and from Indiana University, Bloomington, where she is currently an MFA candidate in poetry. She is the current Poetry Editor of Indiana Review.