my father and I eat a green mango
he cuts through its thick green skin /
hands as steady as an artist / strong and kind—
tells me how his mother died when he was
studying in Ireland / but they kept it from him
so that he wouldn’t leave medical school and
return home too soon / he was Sonny—
the miracle after thirteen miscarriages / his
own father couldn’t look at him until he was
one month old for fear he’d die like the others—
he quarters the rind and gives me a section
torn from its seed / holds out a small plate
of salt / white as a funeral garment mixed
with Indian chili the color of burnt umbre—
we dip our pieces into the offering / chew until
our lips and tongues are awash with the
comforting heat of bitter, fire, salt and sweet—
hands as steady as an artist / strong and kind—
tells me how his mother died when he was
studying in Ireland / but they kept it from him
so that he wouldn’t leave medical school and
return home too soon / he was Sonny—
the miracle after thirteen miscarriages / his
own father couldn’t look at him until he was
one month old for fear he’d die like the others—
he quarters the rind and gives me a section
torn from its seed / holds out a small plate
of salt / white as a funeral garment mixed
with Indian chili the color of burnt umbre—
we dip our pieces into the offering / chew until
our lips and tongues are awash with the
comforting heat of bitter, fire, salt and sweet—
March 2025
Natasha N. Deonarain is the author of two chapbooks, 50 études for piano (Assure Press Publishing) and urban disorders (Finishing Line Press). She’s the winner of the 2020 Three Sisters Award by NELLE magazine and Best of the Net Nominee by Rogue Agent Journal. Recent work has been published in Third Wednesday and Coffin Bell. She was born in South Africa, grew up in Canada and now lives in Arizona.
Art: Claire Tang, Pushing Up Daisies. Oil on canvas.