Tre Luna
“Mangoes in Spanglish”
Mangoes don’t go gently into the night
They put out odorous tendrils
Equatorial heat in their mottled skins, their eyes lipid, insistent
If you’re the brave, careless type and let them go too long
They waggle their heads at you, index finger held high
Speaking rapidly in Spanglish
Determined to be eaten at any cost.
Fine.
Even in preparation they are opinionated
Cottage cheese will do, but blueberries?
“¡Eres un asshole! Tú y tus preciosos arándanos!”
Okay, okay! Sheesh.
Peeling requires nothing but fingers
Juice everywhere, coating counter, hands, bowl, compost
Don’t fight or they’ll squirt to the floor
Offended as cephalopods, emitting ink and curses
Upon the lips and tongue, mangoes—now soup—are exquisite
Fierce, bright as the sun
Nothing could be better. Nothing.
Mangoes know their own worth.
Tre Luna is a writer of fiction and nonfiction, but really he's a bunch of monsters wearing a trench coat (or a fuzzy bathrobe on the weekends.) Most recently he had a nonfiction essay published by the nonprofit NeuroClastic, entitled, "Love, Loss and Mandarin Orange Chicken: How I Broke Up With Trader Joe's." In addition, he's had a poem published by Andiron Review. His blog can be found at https://panfae.medium.com, and his Twitter handle is @TreLuna5.