09 Sep '15, 8pm

"while my tongue twists on kamias, manggang hilaw, durian" - Seeds by M Sereno

They hide the truth in seeds, you see. In the black jeweled eyes of the atis. In the slippery throngs of pakwan, in bitter lanzones watered by my tears when my mother told me of the tree growing in my belly, nourished on my death. Swallow a seed and it will sprout within you, becoming your veins, invading your bones. Those poets and conquerors knew this. Knew the mouth is an altar. Centuries later their stories sink into our skin, coiling and uncoiling as we swallow fables, fleshy pulp of perfect red apples, a rosy roundness we are taught to dream: ruddy lips, fairest face, beauty enough to kill for. I did not eat fruit as a child. I ate summer, storm, the star-strung perfume of night, spitting out the seeds because I wanted to live. Then I grew. These days it's difficult to remember the crack of wood between my teeth: their stories say all fruits are poisoned, and forests...

Full article: http://www.strangehorizons.com/2014/20141020/sereno-p.shtml

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