Every May

Do you remember

When Ka Emong would go to the manggahan

To smoke the trees?

That was every May: the last month of your visit.

You watched in half-horror, half-wonder;

“But doesn’t that hurt the tree?” you asked.

I didn’t know the answer myself,

So I invited you to watch cartoons with me

Back at my house

Before Inay’s teleseryes would come on

And she’d hog the TV until dinnertime.

What I did know was, when the mangoes came

Fresh from the market, you smiled

Even as juice dribbled down your chin,

Because the mangoes here were sweeter

Than any fruit you had ever tasted in Manila.