Breakfast by the Beach



she sets out cut oranges, sweet potatoes
the tips of fern and luau leaves
Bernice has been cooking taro since four
into poi, paddies, whatever they'll eat
with just three pots she can serve them all
the ponderous Hawaiians who arrive at seven

they are smiling and talking quietly
they say they like the food, the way it tastes
it's working they say without speaking
the chart shows normal blood pressures
lost weight, halved doses of insulin
they knew it would, it had to be right

the ancient food a welcome relief
to their starved attenuate taxonomies
each genetic mill rubbed in the balm of the sea
their food born in the red earth and sandy loam
of the rain-doused islands of Pele
simple fit of enzyme to nutrient

like a sexual union, or the set of a sail
or the curling of a wave to a reef
down in Waiehu in front of the church
sun glistening waters before Maluhia
fresh with fish caught in the throw nets
by men with eyes steady in the wind

at seven thirty they leave with their lunches
packed with care in special boxes
they will eat out in the haole world
with its inherent and unbound chaos
but tonight they will be back for the grinds
dancing hula, rejoicing together

their hearts will pump a billion times
without once faltering or exploding
this may be the way it will start
for the taro needs the running water
and water runs from mountain to sea
the ferns that line the rushing stream







						2




must be pure and from poison free
fish must not polluted limu eat
which must not grow in sewage seep
flushed from the bowels of puerile tourists
who can't arrive by the tens of thousands
in airports we can't let them build  


later, arriving home, they find it hard
to pry their kids from the video games
and teach their discovery of how to make it
from hand to mouth, from Cook to Hyatt
but Bernice says three pots will do it
and she's cutting up more taro to stew it