Mango Flesh
I'd also forgotten—what crackling recall!—
The many shades of mango flesh,
The many shapings of mango flesh,
The many flavors of mango flesh,
The many textures of mango flesh,
The tumescences of varied fruit,
Sacred arrays upon seasonal trays,
Indiscreet colors ablush, all orange,
Formulae told at the tongue, all sweet.
Come like a mist the recollections
Of fluid sipped through a knife-slit hole,
Of opulent cubist self-serve bowl,
Of white-fibered stone with its cleave-to pulp,
The feed over seed of drupe occult.
In slurping up saffron from ripe mango dawn,
I resound on the chord of my birthing song.
© Uche Ogbuji, published in Ńchéfù Road, 2022
