Fruit

Written by Andrea Guerrero

something is eating the rats,
mangoes rot on the branch where
topsoil licks worms clean,
felled from forests, 
money we will never see grows on trees 
––a million ears hear the crash, 
lips sealed with blood curdle screams 
into marrow of the soil 

another manananggal is homeless,
without a tree to roost,
her wandering torso is a lost soul,
a bust crusted,
buried in salt of the earth,
salt of blood and sweat and tears, 

blessed fruit of sorrow,
hungry womb of ribs and elbows,
you are swine to the slaughter,
belly full of pearls and air,
and dollars 
––a dollar’s ransom 
for prodigal sons, and daughters 
abandoned by a mother’s hand, 

devoured by the land of opportunity
feeding on brethren flesh 
––a clamor of red, 
red claws and legs, 
a head with no end, 
she drinks sweat 
off your brow, 
your feet 
your hands 
your shaking knees, 
licking dust off 
quivering 
teeth 

she has gone west, 
sucking marrow 
from bone to bone, 

slithering scraping tongue, 
there is no water here 
––only thirst