If tomorrow there is dancing,
Then today I can eat fire fried rice,
Cooked inside fragrant shells of bamboo
Among jungle stilted homes in Madura
Now I have hope: Yesterday, those oranges
I split and shared with Claudia,
tasting her changes to light
In the dawn air, my tongue aglow
With honey-amber pods,
Spitting tear drop seeds.
Such dusty time capsules
Spread root into my future’s fruit.
Hugh Cook attends the University of California, Santa Barbara, studying Writing and Literature. He has authored a collection titled, The Day it Became a Circle (Afterworld Books). His poetry has been published in Tipton Poetry Journal, Ariel Chart, and Muddy River Poetry Review.