ARTEFACTS (Excerpt) by John Robert Lee
MANGO
On Sunday afternoons in mango season,
Alleyne would fill his enamel basin
with golden-yellow fruit, wash them in clean water
then sit out in the yard, under the grapefruit tree,
near the single rose bush, back to the crotons,
place the basin between his feet,
and slowly eat his mangoes, one by one, down to the clean white seed.
his felt-hat was always in his head. The yellow basin, chipped near the bottom.
with its thin green rim, the clear water, golden fruit,
him eating slowly, carefully, picking the mango fiber from his teeth,
under those gone, quiet afternoons, I remember.
me sitting in the doorway of my room, one foot on the steps that dropped
into the yard, reading him, over a book. That’s the way it was.
-END
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