Said the Aswang to the Babaylan
we both know what it means to shudder, pregnant
with delight at the blue veined banquet of belly, we
both kick husbands sprawling as we kneel between
their wives’ spread legs, agape with the slush of life
bawling and blood-sweet, we’ve wiped amnion off
our cheeks knowing nothing can stop us
young mothers burst forth, our hands
inside, up to the elbow, we touch flesh no cock
should ever know, shucking stuck children
like oysters, inured and impatient, to mothers
screaming, we both know the soft crown
silence will swallow the room soon after
Apocalypse Yesterday Already
brittle bone, blood break, page through
scene, memory, phone call, tangent, green
headcase, friend loss, click through, type
agency, sunshine, hustler, bright
sinister, dreamscape, blackman, face
white teeth, blue eye, forlorn race
marketing genius, love sick seal
dead-eye, climate, bone dry zeal
grapeskin, valley, dried to touch
magazine empty, triggers’ dust
kill zone, happy, thermal scan
empty magazine, swollen glands
fish scale, frozen, empty seas
highway, wasteland, grill of bees
Roberto Ascalon is an NYC-born poet and teaching artist. He is a Kundiman and Jack Straw Fellow and a two-time Seattle National Slam Team member. His poem “THE FIRE THIS TIME, or, How Come Some Brown Boys Get Blazed Right Before Class And Other Questions Without Marks” took first place in the 2013 Rattle Poetry Contest and earned him a Pushcart nomination. He is a recipient of two major Seattle arts grants: Seattle Artist Trust and the CityArtist grant. Ascalon’s residencies have led to multimedia exhibitions at venerable institutions across Seattle, including the Seattle Art Museum, the Frye Art Museum, and the Museum of History and Industry. He splits his time between Bellingham, where he is a candidate for an MFA in Creative Writing, and West Seattle, where he lives in an old school-building with a beautiful girl, a blackboard, and a cat. Selected by Michelle Penaloza.
Image © Ed Uthman via Creative Commons.