Bitter Melon

balsam pear. wrinkled gourd.        leafy thing raised from seed.

pungent goya, ampalaya: cut        & salt at the sink. spoon pulp

from bumpy rind, brown half-moons        in garlic & sparking mantika.

like your nanay did. like your lola did.        like your manang braving hot parsyak—

you'll wince. you'll think of the taste        of your own green body—mapait

ang lasa. your sneer. masakit, dugo't        laman. it hurts, this smack of bitter.

yes you'll remember how much it hurts,        to nick your thumb as you bloom heat

in acid, sili at sukang puti—to grow up        glowering in half-light—to flesh out

& plod through your own grassy way,        unfurl your own crush of vines.

after you tip it onto a mound        of steamed rice, as you chew,

the barb of it will hit the back        of your throat. look at yourself,

square. you used to snarl at moths,        start small blazes in entryways.

woodchip fires, flaking paint.        look, tignan mo—see your lip

curling in the glint of your bowl.        unruly squash. acrid vegetable,

you'll flinch. you'll want to see        nothing, taste like nothing. but

when you disappear your meal—        when you choke on the last

chunky morsel of rice—you'll slurp        thirsty for more—a saccharine life.

huwag mo akong kalimutan,        you'll plead—

taste me.taste me.