Rachel Evangeline Chiong

Desidido

Desidido’s sweater smelled like

bay leaves buried in its wrinkles

Receipts tucked into soft pockets

crinkling like fresh rice paper

Desidido’s apron smelled like

canola oil caressing its corners

Brown grease staining its white ocean

clustered like continents adrift

At her restaurant, while the winter wind howled

customers hung their coats on hooks that glistened like polished trophies

On weeknights, Desidido sat behind the bar,

shrouded in a cavern of licorice-coloured bottles

The ends of her lips like a beckoning finger

curled into a smile

On weekends, Desidido sat behind the mixer,

watching bands come and go like passing clouds

Their melodies like a blossoming lily

unfurled into a song

At her restaurant, while the winter wind howled,

Ate and Kuya held hands across a counter that shimmered like a mirror

On weeknights, Desidido stood beside the tables,

healing break-up pains with halo-halo

The heartache like a bruised knee

soothed into a sob

On weekends, Desidido stood beside the fryer,

lumpia laughing in a golden bubble bath,

Her Tagalog playing tag-a-long until it burst and

belted into a joke

At her restaurant, while the winter wind howled,

she kindled a dream in the hearth that flickered like a star

Desidido’s apron smelled like

A salty spray an ocean away

mixed with muggy daydreams

in a warmer country

Desidido’s sweater smelled like

camia kisses and fresh pine,

fixed with a steaming Milo,

on a windy day