I Dreamt Mung Bean    

My student, Xuelai, describes this bean,
says it eases a baby's digestion. She sent pictures
of cow's bone, a delicacy served like a centerpiece,
brown cylinder standing on the plate
as if it had walked there on its own.
Pigs' feet, little paw cut into sixths, I learn
is a dish served to women to reduce
the wrinkle. In America, fat
reduces the wrinkle, so we eat bacon,
I tell her, tower over her in the cafeteria line.
If you eat brown rice and vegetables,
staring at fish eyeballs, things change.
My son is sleeping under the eyes of a stuffed
frog. It pleases me he sleeps. I check for the usual:
suffocation, rash, nose bleed, disappearance.
We're not often far apart from one another,
13th month "in the womb" and I wonder if I'll say
13th year, when his hair will exist in color,
uncombed, up to my breast, standing on his own.
My big strong cow's bone, I'll shout to him
when he's far outfield playing
our American sport, strong and lean
as our boys can be.