QUINCE magazine

a literary and visual arts journal
Five Micro Poems
Memento
Snow rain in summer––
I dart out of my house
to collect dead leaves
Heirloom
In my grandma’s
treasure chest––
sun-dried mangoes
of years ago
are still
rotting
Thirst
The rain fell
like a phone call
I had been awaiting
for years.
Cascade
Summer rain––
my body feels bare
as an un- buttoned flute
Wound
for my mother
The bulb-round waist
of spring figs.
A bamboo sack bulging
under the breasts of
berries.
Mother, I have always
longed to know
which part of your swelling
pains you the most.
