An Instructional Guide to Saying Thank You

Overripe mangoes

melt in wicker baskets

strays sip from sprinkler head pools

Nothing’s too pristine

not the buildings or their

salt-soaked bones or

the bakery that’s open

when it wants to be or

the fallen palms

elephant tusks bleached

in heat

The tight-skinned farmhand rides

overgrown

sugar plantation roads

tips his hat and grins

my black and white great grandfather

Our cat is the neighbor’s cat too climbing

the avocado tree whose fruit

is too big and too buttery

It’s taken me too long

to appreciate the papaya trees

bulging fruit green to orange

embrace their limbs

stretching into our yards shading the

plumeria as mountains bend into hibiscus

lined roads sinking

their teeth into the ocean and

I think surely this dream will

come to an end

breathing in unison:

pink light on peaks soft with

sunken footprints

blending birdsong

the sun through the

slats

and me.

featured in Hawai'i Pacific Review