MY JACT'S 烹 飪 課

Mother       

I dove into the ocean and found my mother there.

She was the gentle wash of waves,

the sparkle of shells, the striated sand,

the stingrays, the garibaldi, the leopard sharks

in their camouflage.

Mother said ”swim,” and I ducked under

the waves finning downward for a few

eternities, ears equalized, eyes open, no

air no breath no need to inhale.

Lost in a spiral of a conch I forgot

the noise and pollution and heat of life,

my own black smoke, my own burning trash briefly

extinguished until finally I came up, head breaking

the surface with a gasp that was almost a scream.

As I walk on the beach feeling the sand

between my toes, music blaring from a restaurant cut by

the yelps of children at play, a gentle smile

ignites my face because I still hear mother’s

whispers in my ear.