Mangoes

By Martha “Cati” Pudner, 2nd Year ETA

Wrinkled fingers shakily slicing,

Flies swarming the samples,

Blotches of angled sun streaming between the leaves.

There was a sign but no soul around to read it.

My hands came up empty

But it was already sliced, and handing it over

He swatted me away,

And him and his flies slid back into the rhythm of the trees.

[Featured photo by Tansica Sunkamaneevongse]