back VI KHI NAO
Gỏi Gà
I told her Vietnamese coldslaw
Lives with crushed peanuts
She tells me peanuts like peppers
Come from the America
So this dish is a young dish
A bit older than 1500s.
In the morning I boiled a pot
With a cleaver, I divided the whole
Chicken born in the woods,
The same lady who made goat milk soap
Into sectional proportions
The thighs and wings would be
Mutilated with chicken broth,
Red sauce, ginger, red onion;
The breasts white as
A geisha’s face will enter a
Pot of boiling water
I spent all afternoon crushing
The shredded floral bodies of
The cabbage, the hearts of mint leaf
The heads of cilantro and shredding
Pre–cooked chicken breasts
Until the geisha’s face
Becomes shards of crumpled light
That we all could eat
In the late evening with
Crushed fish sauce made with
Lime juice, unfiltered fish,
Serrano, garlic dipped in radiant
Light called post–dawn.
Black Snow
Coat The Skillet
Gỏi Gà
How Long Have You Been Sleeping, Snow?
Licking Light