In Thai we don’t say “ขอโทษ” (Sorry)

By Munin Youngvanich

The silence of the fruit bowl, there.       I stare hard at it, like the sun

On a midsummer’s day of fun,          one question burns behind my eyes.

They are fiery pits, soaking               my pink cheeks and throat with hot heat

My heart beating, my sore hands, beat     my seat are spikes of naga scales

You are pale, sweat-slicked, the tension       of the question hung in still air

A nightmare which could not be spoken        aloud, broken, jagged words

The bowl had cut-up pineapple,           yellow like citrine, and mango

Pomelo, pearls of rambutan,               an aroma of fructose,

Have you eaten yet? No need             to bet, because you know the truth

But it soothes the electric air,                 where would I be without you?

The apology is sweeter than words.

Illustration by Sophie Hart