By ALIGUAS VELASCO RAYOS

Yuro, in my native language, means knife.
That with which we pare guavas and green mangoes
Or cut up green papaya that we would dip in vinegar
or plain salt for a crunchy snacks

Yuro has always been a faithful friend
Who’d always be available and on guard
He bites back when hurt and he makes
sure you knew it from his actions

In Europe, euro emerged vindictive of its
US counterpart in the early 2000’s
Stabbing the green buck with all its might
Trying to be a world power

Back home in my hometown, meanwhile
The old knife still shines in its wooden sheath
Safe and reassuring little children
they can still have a crunchy snacks
Of guavas, green mangoes, and yes, green papayas
From Laki Anloy’s backyard.

January 15, 2009
Baguio City