A. G. Bawang Poems

I watch a tiny auburn ant
Make its way into my shoulders
Like some cocky rookie mountaineer
Hungry for an adventure
...

It is a very urgent radiating itch
Somewhere at the right of my back
Reached finally by my finger’s tacks
...

No being on this soil discerns my soul
Besides the one whose visage fits, now rests
Sashaying on my palms. She sees my roles
And highlights my distinctions during tests
...

you squeeze my cheeks
like you do your bath time sponge
you grab my hair for dearest life
as I shake my head in protest
...

touchdown!
homerun!
hole in one!
...

I heard of you
From mouths that have tasted crème brulee
and from tongues that have endured caviar
They have often argued whether
...

the green sterile room
violently opens
with the masked posse
shoving, kicking, swearing
...

Each step of your big steel toed foot
used to sound like an angry hammer at midnight.
Last night and tonight,
they were mute.
...

Sir,

They asked me
...