hunger

Jezebel’s sister.
The middle child.
The one not hard enough to take the money.
Instead, she worked harder, selling honey
On the street.
To cook a stew for two
And create her own
Ambrosia
Sold her soul to hungry men, to feed her own
Appetite
For destruction.

Rain in Rio

time paused by pouring rain
reminds me of a tropical adolescence
my body needing natural cleansing
despojado en lagrimas

now in a city of plush hills and favela mountains
when the rain stops
its music continues

the rhythm of wet pellots hitting terracotta shutters
the drizzling water of vertical gutters
the swish of mototaxis in puddles
the hum of wind rocking trees

a silence only nature can whisper
in an urban amazon jungle

gut gastronomer

surround sound samba
i give glances at
cariocas cooking creole italian
crossing the atlantic in different forms
fomenting kitchen kultur that
forgets race

if only fusion were so easy on the
streets
as it were on the tongue
tastebuds allow for difference
without pitting palates
a bitter sweet and sour
sabor

dare a culinary quest beyond text
force a gut gastronomer to ask:

what does love taste like?