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



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.  


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