Before they learned to read
notes, my fingers ran the length
of the dining table, tapping out
imaginary songs.
*
The bowl of soup
went untouched, the plate
of rice draped with leaves
blanched in vinegar.
*
When a bell clanged in the alley,
our mothers warned us not to eat
dirty ice cream: it came in pastel
colors, each flavor like the next.
*
Behind the stump of the cut-
down tree, a wild mushroom
spread its round and
breathing face.
*
Señorita, señorita
called the fish vendors,
fanning open the milkfish
belly lined with fat.
*
There are days when my mouth
craves only the salt of bodies
that cluster on white rocks,
feasting on fried crickets' wings.