soil-lickers
so we licked soil every night.
we laid together, a crochet of quiet starfish washed ashore &
letting the moon bleach our weary bodies sore.
the skyscrapers rose in the distance like high-heeled giants &
high-rise apartments divvied up the skyline
it was a negotiation, a simple give & take
here was my dress & blood & name,
& here was my citizenship.
we gave more than we took,
chopsticked citizens,
aching for the soil that parched our mouths,
choking with the delicate fish bones lodged in our throats.
tongues quick as the yellow river,
teething on a new wanting beyond our silted hands,
eating a language not our own.
my grandmother was not meant to tame vowels
———– nor wrangle the slippery eel of grammar—
—————–she was meant to knead the dumpling dough to completion
———————-steaming baozi on circular tables to meet hungry eyes
———————————-at new year gatherings where hongbao stuffed candied hands
—————————————each child with a name she could understand
my grandfather was entombed in a country he could not buy shoes in
——his feet two fisted oranges & sockless in his grave
———–the tombstone chiseled with a name he stumbled as he wrote,
———————-every letter a translation.
—————————he found t was a crooked 七 & i an rotated 一
——————————–these little surprises
—————————————forging a window of home
since he never reached the door,
at his funeral i wore red & prayed:
one day when we lick the soil dry &
the ocean bed is left parched with dust,
we’ll lay together
& you’ll teach me how to write my forgotten name.
Sabrina Liu
Year 13
Kristin School
