the way
you’d say
my name
sometimes
slowly
deliberately
watching
waiting
for my pupils
to dilate
Monthly Archives: July 2013
two days ago
your ten-pound six-year-old
monkey-child
challenged me
loudly
while hanging
one-armed
to swing my way
across the ten
jungle gym bars
so I did it
to her open-mouthed
surprise
let’s not tell her
my muscles
are sore today
dripping avocados
the avocados are slowly increasing in size
elongating like fat green water droplets
held together by surface tension
but gradually being pulled earthward
by their heavy bottoms
it won’t be too long
before they drop
into my waiting hands
picked at its peak
for weeks now
my siblings have been
picking the nectarines
before they can ripen
citing a preference
for crisp and tart
thwarting my desire
for not-so-green fruit
but they missed a gem
slightly hidden
behind a trio of leaves
on the highest branch
a fully ripened surprise
with veins of ruby-red running
from skin to seed
and sweet juicy-soft flesh
warm as the setting sun
it can wait
he sends texts
to himself
when he is upset
and it is too late
to bother her
he knows
she wouldn’t approve
but she is a light sleeper
and the emotions
will pass
and seeing the messages
twice in a row
makes him laugh
calms him
gets him through the night
sometimes
when we are near
i go quiet
with concentration
not from
deep thoughts
or strong emotions
but counting
to three
on every in-breath
and exhale
reminding
my body how
to breathe
background noise
every weekday around noon
in the livingroom
dad streams voice of america
in khmer through his laptop
while mom has foodnetwork
in english on the tv
both set at the same volume
loud
we all watch the tv
but they only hear the khmer
until an ingredient or technique
needs to be clarified
and i hear the english
until a familiar word or phrase
catches my ear
and we finally spend
a few fleeting moments
in shared space
seeing and hearing
the same things
leaving the bay
he cooks me breakfast
on the last day of each visit
before accompanying me
to the airport
dishes that fill the apartment
and permeate our clothes
with delicious smells
that linger for hours
this morning i left his car
trailing lumpia and fried rice
the previous time we rode BART
advertising chicken and waffles
i think i might protest
if he ever tried to send me off
with weak-scented meals
of porridge or pancakes or fruit
law of conservation
the weekend was full
of atmospheric exchanges
between city and festival and crowd
and personal exchanges
between them and you and me
and yesterday’s afternoon nap
was my body’s attempt
to recoup some
of the expended energy
early
a city bird sings
to herself
at four in the morning
when there is no traffic
down california
two short whistled notes
immediately echoed
by the multi-storeyed walls
of corner apartments
a hopeful cry
to empty streets
that is returned
again and again