Salt and Sugar
Past the mangroves,
a bag between them, the man and woman go
behind a house and come round lugging mangoes.
Bush of gardenias—
ghosts of flashbulbs the day I turned a teen. Is
that them still, floating through the years between us?
Parents’ Wedding Photo
Centerpiece of wisterias—
years until I’d figure how mysterious
their being a Mrs. and a Mr. is.
It’s Not the Heat
The fluted hibiscus,
pink, opened. I think of her again because,
drunk on summer once, she deigned that I buzz close.