you can’t stop me eating cashews, you can’t.

Anatomy of a Cashew (taken from Jorge Debravo’s book of poetry entitled Vórtices selected by Andres Alfaro). much better in Spanish.

Wrap your fingers around its curves. Its fruit is soft
and fragile like a heart. It has a spongy pulp and
contains the flavor of the tropics and rain inside.
Enclose it. It has, like an appendage, its seed on the
outside. It has never been a hypocrite.
How different from those fruits that love to deceive!
They appear big and round from the outside. But inside
the seeds are huge like soccer balls.
There are women who cover their faces with congealed
fats. Touching their skin gives us a strange sensation,
as if we were walking at night down a filthy, remote alley.
One of those alleys where the sun never shines as if petrified
with shame.
Do you know any man, woman or child who is like
a cashew?


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