Litchi juiced like drips from a chin to a wrist.

Dirt and blood grind in the teeth of jealous eyes.

A mouth full of red dirt and blood grind on fruit.

On golden grass, sliced mango spreads like a crown.

A mango sun rains on a golden grass green:

Uncle, prostrated and sobbing in the shine.

Uncle, in the shine of sobbing, prostrated

He held my hand once, crossing the street for sweets.

Cakes and sweets, I held his hand to cross the street

—Uncle lives there now with ragged cloth and knees.

My uncle lives with torn knees and ragged cloth,

I’m here now in the Cajun South, soft singing:

I’m singing in the Cajun South about him—

litchi juiced like drips from a chin to a wrist.