War of Bargain

My mother enjoys the healthiest bamboo broom. It cost her 15 rupees and only five calories were lost during the Battle of Bargain. I am not in her army but she drags me into the field. The enemy’s armour is poor, has a big gnawing hole right around where his heart should be. I do not believe 10 rupees more or less could change him or his life. Above me, the sun turns my country to a boil. I clear my throat. I start my training for bargains. I say to him Hello Assalam u Alaikum. My mother tuts, hits me with the broom.

Sweet Teeth

Apo comes home with a new hip, a bowl made of copper that we touch through her sweater.

Deer Legs

watching my father
string the soft spots
in deer legs

Ars Poetica, age 4

...my four-year-old hand caressed that plastic world & beheld its cerulean tilt & spin