Filipino Heaven

~ after Jose Olivarez

Clouds of rice
and rivers of blood
stew; prim egg rolls
and noodles assigned
to purgatory. The real
stuff we used to hide
from neighbors and co-
workers out in the glorious
open— rows of butterflied
fish, those salty angels.
The pig and the goat
chasing each other around
the fire pit, an army
of uncles ready to come
down with justice. Women
combing the flesh of fish
with tender spiked combs.
No one in scrubs. No one
bent over a field or
in a maid’s uniform.

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