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Neilbee Love Tayco Poem
The tip of her nose
studded with blackheads like seeds
on a strawberry,
she stared back at me;
I could feel her move closer.
She asked, should we kiss?
Panting, I just gazed.
Her breasts touched my own. I closed
my eyes and breathed no.
Copyright © neilbee love tayco | Year Posted 2008
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Details |
Neilbee Love Tayco Poem
Three o’clock in the afternoon:
the sun should have been
scorching the asphalts
and the shingles on roofs, but
spurts of red electric spark
ran across the sky. Blackness
smothered any hint of light.
Molten earth spewed out
from the gates of hell. The ground
rumbled and shook.
Ash engulfed the rice fields.
Those who were caught
and trapped in its path
were mummified like those at Pompeii. Rocks,
mud rained from heaven,
thudded against concrete walls. Palm and coconut
trees were unearthed from their roots
as if a gardener was yanking out weeds.
Villagers ran blindly to a nearby church
while their skins roasted and peeled
from their muscles and bones. The ones,
who were able to reach
the Cross, suffocated—their lungs
seared from sulfuric acid.
An avalanche of dirt buried them
six feet deep.
I was on the opposite
side of the island. The wind
howled as it blew East.
Copyright © neilbee love tayco | Year Posted 2008
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Details |
Neilbee Love Tayco Poem
I vacationed in the Northern
part of the Philippines. I watched
the news, a newscaster assured the viewers
that the tsunami was not
going to affect the region where I stayed.
As I listened, I daydreamed
about swimming
or using a fallen door
to ride the waves.
Two years later, I watched
a home video from one of the survivors
documented by National Geographic. The person
filmed a man running towards
the hotel. The first wave caught him
by the feet, as if a whip lashed around his ankles,
pulled then shoved
his body forward. His arms
wailed, fighting the force.
It carried him,
slammed his head first against the door.
Copyright © neilbee love tayco | Year Posted 2008
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