it was the year of my favorite light
when I inherited
my grandmother’s dishes
stacked my barren shelves
with her exotic antiques
filled my fridge
with garden veggies from my friends
no money
for much more

it was the season of lilikoi
and he would gladly offer
the peach-fuzzed
passion fruit
spilling from the pockets
of his pack

it was the time we pieced it together
finding coconuts
but not having a machete
the delicate art of breaking
cracking with a hammer
reaping all rewards

in that one bedroom
we may have been surrounded
by ratting, dandered cats
past our windows
I just basked in light

streams of sun
in the kitchen
cracked concrete counters
family heirlooms
and fresh harvest


mango plate

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