Memento

 

Snow rain in summer––

I           dart out of       my house 
to collect dead leaves 

​

 

 

 

 

Heirloom
 

In my grandma’s
treasure chest––
  sun-dried mangoes
  of years ago
  are still
 

rotting 

 

 

 

 

 

Thirst
 

The rain fell 

       like a phone call
       I had been awaiting 

for years. 

 

 

​

 

 

​

Cascade
 

Summer rain––

my body feels bare
as an un-   buttoned  flute 

​

​

 

 

 

Wound
 

for my mother

The bulb-round waist

of spring figs. 

A bamboo sack bulging

under the breasts of 

berries. 

Mother, I have always
longed to know 

which part of your swelling
pains you the most.