now the bedbug
finally finds
its place
in one of the lines
of the palm of my hand

its life
depends on the nail of my thumb
its weapon now
is simply being a ball
all its feet
hidden under its spherical wings

it is not praying
it is simply waiting for its death
within a palm
there is no choice

except my own
indecision

antonio liao

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Reshma Ramesh (9/24/2008 11:01:00 PM)
very very neat indeed

WILLIAM SIENES III (7/15/2008 9:49:00 PM)
i like this one, antonio. i have never thought of a bedbug as a poem subject. very good...

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12/5/2008 10:03:59 AM. You Are Here: a bedbug on my palm by antonio liao