After Linh Dinh
let us be savages this afternoon.
primitive folk,
we lap up congee then pork
floss for dessert.
let us return to nature among
the mallards & bird’s eye
chili. give us fish maw.
swim bladder bubbling into
collagen gum. we are rich
in tone.
let us spread foul bliss. straw-
hatted man beats durian to a pulp.
its meat lines our stomach, its
sweet miasma stops the children
midplay.
let us look past the taco day
mayhem. chilled fruit cups &
banana fosters. domesticated
bunch. i am a poet
of disgust, no taste
for truffle salt.
this is my tribe & these are my hands:
too brown, too unrefined,
not whipped enough
for their apple pie.
country over western.
feet over ribs.
dog over chicken.
& since there is no knife,
i’ll gut the bitch
with my teeth.