Brother,
Let us find refuge in
Unabashed love;
The crescent blade
Tucked against your waist
Held like an organ for self flight;
My sac of collected mango pits
I plant for redemption but never sprout
Fruit in this land of many winters;
Let us pawn them all in for;
Tears and honey,
Hummingbirds and misfortune,
Naga and lock gates,
So we may one day burrow our hands so
Deep into a furious hive of dashes and discomfort
That we are fortunate enough
To understand what hold
The spirit is not war and calls to home,
But a monsoon of poetry & weeps
That fastens the mouth
Sweet like Mekong vernacular
Sticky with the weight of America's
Orange blossom.
