a taste of banadilla

by Elizabeth Trew

Right now I’ll take you to an orchard
of rose-yellow mangos
bunches of lady-finger bananas
clusters of golden pawpaws, tawny litchis
we’ll swallow sweetness
supripe, rainwashed
stroll among melons
in the pink fall of plums
past my mother’s herbs and father’s granadillas –
purple eggs he trained on the vine
we’ll find his banana-granadilla hybrid –
the elusive banadilla of my mother’s story
you don’t believe
remove its yellow sleeve, taste its black seeds,
its luscious, imagined fruit.


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