Title Page

Dedication

For Tita Alice Pulmano
1939–2006
Storyteller, Spirit

For Eustaquio Garcia Pulmano, MD
1912–2007
Monument, My Papa

“Pic, pic, pic, tic, tic, tic, Look thou god of the air and lord of the birds. With only a peck of thy strong beak thou wilt give us freedom. Thou wilt be joyful at seeing us, and we shall thank thee with all our hearts.”

The sound came from the bamboo reed—persuasive and distinct. “Should I peck on the reed?” the cautious Manaul hesitated. At that very moment, the bird thought he saw a lizard scamper up the reed. Suddenly, as a reflex action, he jumped and pecked hard.

The bamboo cracked and slowly split open. Lo and behold, the first man and the first woman sprang from inside the hollow space of the bamboo node!

Sicalác, the male, was strong and handsome and was named Malakás, meaning strong. Sicabáy, the female, was beautiful and lovely and was named Magandá, meaning beautiful. Since then, men were called si Lalác or lalake, and women were called si Babay or babae.

—Penélope V. Flores, “Malakás at Magandá”

And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept: and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof;

And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.

And Adam said, this is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.

Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.

—Genesis 2:21–24

A GENESIS OF WE, CLEAVED

A GENESIS OF WE, CLEAVED

In the beginning, a man of dust and fire became bone, and viscera, and flesh. The deity of the wind blessed his lips, and he came to take his first breath. Within this strange vessel, I opened my eyes, and within this, your darkness, I learned to weave song. Do you remember me fluttering inside your chest, tickled by the cool air newly filling your lungs? Do you remember exhaling song on this first day?

On the second day, the unseen hand from above cleaved you in two, exacting penance for our joy as you awakened from the deepest, most delicious dreaming. On the second day, my love, I was torn from the haven of your blood, the cradle of your flesh and tendons. A smarting wound strewn across our garden’s sweet grasses, I lay raw and aching. On this second day, my hands and feet learned how relentless the cold.