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ALBERT B. CASUGA, a Philippine-born writer, lives in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada, where he continues to write poetry, fiction, and criticism after his retirement from teaching and serving as an elected member of his region's school board. He was nominated to the Mississauga Arts Council Literary Awards in 2007. A graduate of the Royal and Pontifical University of St. Thomas (now University of Santo Tomas, Manila. Literature and English, magna cum laude), he taught English and Literature (Criticism, Theory, and Creative Writing) at the Philippines' De La Salle University and San Beda College. He has authored books of poetry, short stories, literary theory and criticism. He has won awards for his works in Canada, the U.S.A., and the Philippines. His latest work, A Theory of Echoes and Other Poems was published February 2009 by the University of Santo Tomas Publishing House. His fiction and poetry were published by online literary journals Asia Writes and Coastal Poems recently. He was a Fellow at the 1972 Silliman University Writers Workshop, Philippines. As a journalist, he worked with the United Press International and wrote an art column for the defunct Philippines Herald.

Wednesday, March 27, 2013



Big breath...relax...tiny, too much, tiny...
very good...relax... and she nudged him rather sharply
with her gelled dowser (for want of a better word
for a heart's diviner)... This is as close as my old skin
could get to a presence of breasts, er, mammaries,
he sighed under his now tortured breathing regimen.
Move closer to me, please...put your knees up...tiny
breath, hold...and relax. There were jolts on his ribs,
more kneading of his belly, his navel, back to his chest.

And he heard the swishing staccato echoing promptly
to each of her stabs, urgently wheedling his pumping
heart to tell her what might have been lascivious were
this not the one ultra sound that would tell him he
would be around for a little while, but these are about
the closest he would get to the smell of glands and their
jolting touch on his bare back. What if they were bare
breasts, he wondered. Big breath, please...relax...tiny, no, that's too much... Heart tests be damned,
he said and closed his eyes, having come so near to
a touch that would remain as cold as the gel on his navel.



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