Stench of Guava

Stench of guava’s slimy skin
Hard outside and soft within
The hard and soft of my own kin
My blood that trickled down your chin.

Stench of guava’s ripened flesh
Beneath its shade, my body threshed
Within its arms did you enmesh
Your kin, my body small and fresh.

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You came to me, in dreams,
with your voice rustling
like leaves beneath tiny feet.
With your hair, slick and shining wet
like snakes throwing off aging skin.
With your eyes
full of make-believe games and anecdotes.

You came to me, in dreams,
with hands that smelled of guava pulp,
too used to small and tender flesh.
With lips too hungry to delay
planting smells inside my mouth.
with teeth biting through playschool logic
mocking my tentative baby lisps.

You came to me, in dreams,
every night,
and every morning, ever since,
my breath is stale
of guavas pale,
and every morning, ever since,
I recount fiction that slowly dropped,
like a penny,
into a pool of fact.