Destined On their last holiday, they sat on a reed mat laid with local delicacies: a bowl of somtam, a plate of tilapia, cups of khaw, mud-dark, fish-pickle sauce, and a basket of freshly-picked greens from his auntie’s garden. This is how we roll in the province, no need for table or chairs. No need for cutlery. She gaped at the feast, his relatives … Continue reading Two poems by Romalyn Ante