Poem: Eating Mangoes

My mother taught me
to eat mangoes.

Sliding the long knife through
amber flesh,
hopscotch, tic-tac-toe-patterned.

We would push from beneath,
the leathery skin against our
fingers. A broken rubix cube
of bitesize fruit unfolded,
origami-like, above.

We stood together,
gulping down morsels
before the kitchen sink.

The juice ran down our chins
spotting sweet, onto the immaculate steel.

One thought on “Poem: Eating Mangoes

  1. Love it. Perfect for summer! It really makes me want to be there with you and your mother eating mangoes.

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