by Thanhha Lai
needing amethyst-ring twirls
and her lavender scent.
I’m not as good as Mother
at making do.
Finally she comes in
and turns from me,
her signal for more
time alone.
I lie frozen,
sniffing for
traces of lavender.
Too faint
yet I dare not roll closer.
She sighs,
extends it
into a sniffle.
Where are you?
Should we keep hoping?
She thinks
I am asleep.
More sniffles,
so gentle
I would miss them
by inhaling too deeply.
Come home,
come home and see how
our children have grown.
All my life
I’ve wondered
what it’s like
to know someone
for forever
then poof
he’s gone.
Another sigh.
It’s more difficult here
than I imagined.
I thought so,
despite her own rule
Mother can’t help
yearning for Father
any more than I can help
tasting ripe papaya
in my sleep.
September 21
Late
Spelling Rules
Sometimes
the spelling changes
when adding an s.
Knife becomes knives.
Sometimes
a c is used
instead of a k,
even if
it makes more sense
for cat to be spelled kat.
Sometimes
a y is used
instead of an e,
even if
it makes more sense
for moldy to be spelled molde.
Whoever invented English
should have learned
to spell.
September 30
Cowboy’s Gifts
Our cowboy likes
to bring us gifts.
The breathing catfish
was Mother’s favorite.
I couldn’t watch Vu Lee
kill and clean it,
but it tasted so good.
After getting us dipped at church,
our cowboy brought gifts
even more often.
Vu Lee always asks for beef jerky,
pointing to his muscles.
I prefer really fat grapes.
Today our cowboy brings
chips and chocolate.
My brothers and I
finish the chips
in a flash.
Later Mother
throws away
what’s left of the candy.
After she falls asleep,
I retrieve the bars.
They’ll be better
than hard rolls
for lunch.
October 4
Someone Knows
My word for today
is delicious,
ì lít-sì-ishss.
MiSSSisss WaSShington asks,
Was your lunch delicious?
Before speaking,
I have to translate
in my head.
She waits.
I eat candy in toilet.
MiSSSisss WaSShington
looks panicked.
WHAT?
I realize my mistake.
Oh, the toilet.
She doesn’t look
any happier.
I add,
Not candy all time.
But you always eat in the bathroom?
I nod.
Why?
How can I explain
dragonflies do somersaults
in my stomach
whenever I think of
the noisy room
full of mouths
chewing and laughing?
I’m still translating
when her eyes get red.
I’ll pack you a lunch
and you can eat at your desk.
No eat in class.
I’ll fix that.
Things will get better,
just you wait.
I don’t believe her
but it feels good
that someone knows.
October 13
Most Relieved Day
At lunch the next day
I stay in class.
MiSSS SScott nods.
Can it be this easy?
Inside my first
brown paper bag:
a white meat sandwich,
an apple,
crunchy curly things
sprinkled with salt, and
a cookie dotted
with chocolate raindrops.
Something salty,
something sweet,
perfect.
I hear pounding footsteps
in the long hall.
I stop chewing.
Two students
run into class,
giggling.
I firm my muscles,
ready for the giggles
to explode into laughter
thrown at me.
But smiles appear instead.
The girl has
red hair swaying to her bottom,
a skirt falling to her calves.
She says, Pam. I hear Pem.
The boy of coconut-shell skin
is dressed better than for church,
a purple bow tie,
a white white shirt
that wouldn’t wrinkle
even if he rolled down a hill.
His shaved head
is so shiny and perfect
I want to touch it.
He speaks slowly and loudly,
but I don’t mind
because he’s still smiling.
He says, Steven.
I hear SSsì-Ti-Vân.
I have not
seen them in class.
But then, I mostly
stare at my shoes.
I will write in my journal
October 14 is
Most Relieved Day,
as I have noted
April 30 was
Saigon Is Gone Day
and September 2 was
Longest Day Ever.
Though I was saving
Most Relieved Day
for Father’s return,
he can have the title:
My Life’s Best Day.
October 14
Smart Again
Pink Boy
stands at the board.
He can’t multiply
18 by 42.
I go to the board,
chalk the answer
in five moves.
My cheekbones lift
to the ceiling
until I see horror
on the faces
of Pem and SSsì-Ti-Vân.
Pink Boy is glowing red
against white hair,
white eyebrows,
and white eyelashes.
MiSSS SScott
nudges me toward my seat.
Pem reaches for my hand,
hers trembling.
I know
Pink Boy will get me,
but right now
I feel smart.
October 20
Hair
One day
the honey-hair girl
takes her pink ribbons
and knots pigtails in my hair.
She stares,
shakes her head,
yanks back her ribbons.
Pink don’t look good on you.
Then three girls
of bronze-bread skin
remove colorful barrettes
from their hair
and twist onto my head
so many braids.
The girls’ hair holds
the shape of braids
even without barrettes.
Pem and SSsì-Ti-Vân nod,
so I keep still.
Walking home,
my shadow shows
eels dancing on my head
with tails in shapes of
bows, stars, hearts.
Mother and Brothers
notice,
pause,
then go on with their day.
It isn’t easy
to sleep on a pile of
plastic barrettes.
The next morning
when the girls
slip off the barrettes,
my hair falls back
to being straight.
The girls
yank my flat strands,
walk away.
I’ve spent my life
wishing for long hair
and this is what I get.
October 23
The Busy One
Vu Lee no longer
has time for just me.
At sunrise
he throws newspapers
onto porches.
After school
he flips perfect circles
of beef.
At sunset
he teaches Bruce Lee moves
in our front yard.
We line up in five rows,
squatting and shifting,
the only moves
he has taught us.
I make sure to get
in the front row.
First came
the eager boys.
Next came
the giggly girls.
Then came
our neighbors who
couldn’t help their curiosity.
They wave back now,
at times bringing
jiggly, colorful food
we don’t eat.
Everyone in Vu Lee’s class
wears yellow.
Some even bought suits
exactly like Bruce Lee’s.
Brothers Quang and Khôi join too.
Once I saw Mother
behind the curtains,
smiling.
I squatted low and sturdy then.
October 28
War and Peace
MiSSS SScott
shows the class
photographs
of a burned, naked girl
running, crying
down a dirt road
of people climbing, screaming,
desperate to get on
the last helicopter
out of Saigon
of skeletal refugees,
crammed aboard a
sinking fishing boat,
reaching up to the heavens
for help
of mounds of combat boots
abandoned by soldiers
of the losing side.
She’s telling the class
where I’m from.
She should have shown
something about
papayas and Tt.
No one would believe me
but at times
I would choose
wartime in Saigon
over
peacetime in Alabama.
October 29
Pancake Face
Pem is dressed
in a skirt to the floor
like the pioneers
in our textbook.
SSsì-Ti-Vân
wears a beard
like President Lincoln.
I didn’t know
today is pretend day.
Pink Boy keeps asking,
What are you?
By the end of school
he yells an answer:
She should be a pancake.
She has a pancake face.
It doesn’t make sense
until
it does.
I run,
hearing laughter
loud loud loud,
which still echoes when Mother comes home.
I can’t keep the day inside anymore.
Mother asks,
What’s a pancake?
Tears gush
because I can’t
make myself explain
a pancake
is
very
very
flat.
October 31
Halloween
Mother’s Response
Mother strokes my head.
Chant, my child,
Breathe in, peaceful mind.
Breathe out, peaceful smile.
She strokes my back.
Chant, my daughter;
your whispers will bloom
and shelter you
from words
you need not hear.
Chant
Nam Mô A Di à Pht
Nam Mô Quan Th m B Tát.
She strokes my arm.
I chant,
wanting the gentle strokes
to continue forever.
I chant,
wanting Mother’s calmness
to sink into me.
October 31
Night
MiSSSisss WaSShington’s Response
I’m quiet
during my lesson
with MiSSSisss WaSShington.
For a long time
I stare at the floral wallpaper
and shelves full of books,
then I notice
a framed photograph
of a boy in uniform.
I had not known of her son Tom
or of his death as a
twenty-year-old soldier
in the very place
where I was born.
I never thought
the name of my country
could sound so sad.
I’m afraid to look
at MiSSSisss WaSShington.
You hate me?
Child, child.
She comes close
and hugs me.
Right then I tell her
about the pancake.
She hugs me tighter,
then pulls out a book.
A book of photographs:
a dragon dance at Tt,
schoolgirls in white áo dàis,
a temple built on a tree trunk.
Tom had sent home
these photographs
of a hot, green country
that he loved and hated
just the same.
I suck in breath:
a photograph of
a papaya tree
swaying broad,
fanlike leaves
in the full sun,
showing off a bundle
of fat orange piglets.
Excited, I yell,
u !
I’m stabbing at the image.
Best food.
Papaya?
Your favorite food is papaya?
By the time I teach her
u
and she teaches me
doo-doo
we’re laughing so hard
we’re hungry for pancakes.
She tells me
to take
the book home.
November 3
Cowboy’s Response
Before school
our cowboy shows up.
MiSSSisss WaSShington told him
about the pancake.
He whispers to Mother and Brother Quang.
All will escort me to school
with MiSSSisss WaSShington.
I do not feel good.
In the principal’s office
sit Pink Boy and his mother.
It’s very hot in here.
Lots of strained voices
holding in anger.
Finally all eyes
are on Pink Boy,
who wrestles out, Sorry.<
br />
I feel like throwing up.
Mother rescues him:
We know you’re from a proper family
and did not realize
the damage of your insult.
While Brother Quang translates,
Pink Boy’s eyes let me know
he hates me even more.
November 5
Boo-Da, Boo-Da
MiSSS SScott
shows photographs
of the S shape
of Vietnam,
of green mountains and long beaches,
of a statue of the Buddha reclining.
She asks me,
Would you like to say anything?
I know Buddha.
I hear laughter
and a murmur building:
Boo-Da, Boo-Da.
