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Sonnets from the Tongue

Wrapped in Leaves

 

 

                   “There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, 

                   than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

 

                                                   â€•William Shakespeare, Hamlet

 

 

There are fewer things in heaven and earth

Than can be wrapped in leaves, or uttered

Without holding the breath as if at birth

When sucking and inhaling were what mattered.

Only leaves, please, nourished by the Volcano

On its footslopes, watered rich and fresh

By a spring among rocks, the tender taro

Bathed in nutty cream—no pleasure of the flesh!

Wrap in that same leaf its torn and shredded 

Strips, throw in the sinful pork fat, the hot

Labuyò, let boil, chase with nut’s unblended

Cream, and your mouth is ready to be shot

With burst of delectation so otherworldly:

O Pinangat of the heart, there can be one only.

 

February 1, 2012

Salted Fish Sonnet

 

 

Salt is what separates us from poverty or death,

If death be bland and poverty the absence of taste.

Sweetness cloys and often its excess is waste,

And sour, too, the words that come with spoiled breath.

And thus they brought us riches, these royal fish—

Ábo and Nyúlok, saviors of our famished faith:

One had fine scales, white and light-pierced as a wraith,

The other as dark as the tin under the enamel of dish.

Both reigned to prolong life as well as life on shelf,

By munificent and abundant salt they were regent

Queen and king: though with nature’s ready solvent

You had to bathe them so they were more palatable

To swell the taste of steaming rice and watery soup

Of fresh vegetable: a humble feast for poverty’s table. 

 

February 10, 2015

FishRedM.png

Fish by Red Mansueto

Adobo Sonnet

 

 

You and I and our mothers have their own

Recipes. And you and I have our own memories

Of these morsels that soothe down to the bone,

These soul-caressing, rich man-poor man delicacies.

Of afternoons of the famished adolescent

Or the hungover college student, we took out

The generous jar of leftover goodness—O scent

Of fat and oil! Rescue me, Adobo! I had no doubt.

The name is a colonial christening, but our way

Of cooking is native. The Castilians brought

The laurel or oregano, the seasoning an array

Elaborate: ours was simple vinegar, just a thought.

Adobo Filipino: Our history and flavors in cavalcade,

Revive and remind me, let me swim in your marinade.

 

May 30, 2015

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