On Badian

Badian in Google Drive

in a matter of minutes, our mangrove

views, crawling umang, brown-skinned children

clad in laughter and competitive spirits

—all will be anointed in zeroes and

ones despite being stored somewhere

in a faulty folder called


Badian 101

two year old cousin

plays hopscotch atop

auntie’s concrete grave

an emotion without

a name surfaces at the tip

of the waves’ white foam

Badian, her hometown, collects bones

gives birth to nicknames

retracing veins of leaves

back to its roots such that

the lost returns into

a cycle of remembering

Badian 102

my city is constantly owned

by floodwaters and whining

her town sits beside a mangrove forest

tosses a blue pump boat

its bamboo frame or katig

bobbing against blue-green waters

moss dancing to a rhythm

of contentment

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