My mommy’s name is Mit
Aloud not mitt
But meet
At birth, fat as a fruit
For which she was dubbed

A jackfruit, with skin all prickly
A giant green grenade
Machete or butcher knife
Reveals the guts, yellow blobs
Like eggs gone wrong

The pods give flesh smooth and sweet
Al dente, come la pasta per favore
I chew and swallow succulent mit
Remember days of childhood joy
Mit gives me seconds of mit, a treat

My throat constricts
My breathing labors
Inside my head the itch advances
Alas, I have developed adversity
To eating my mommy Mit’s mit