
Austin Bate-Agborsangaya is a Cameroonian-Taiwanese poet and writer born in Los Angeles, CA. A Best New Poets and Pushcart Prize nominee, his poetry and essays have been recognized by the New York Times and Princeton University. Recently, he was the winner of the 2026 Rising Poet Prize. His work appears in Black Warrior Review, West Trade Review, and elsewhere.
Austin Bate-Agborsangaya
portrait of god as nuclear bomb
At the moment of atom’s breaking
Eve pauses with the apple still imaginary,
the serpent a curve of yes, a question mark with scales.
? Original sin: the womb’s trove is treachery, the woman’s daring is destruction.
Knowledge is carnage, our own origin and end —
though the fruit was never an apple,
and in the apocalypse I think Oppenheimer must have witnessed Eden renewed.
For there exists a carmine sun for every son,
our red rehearsal folded behind the eyelid of the sky. A woman’s desire is detonation,
Eve finding that the juice she tasted was blood.
The Greeks named it water-bringer, but
they could not have meant this. Dust to dust.
In Hiroshima, the children died believing they had seen a God.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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