unnameable are the feelings that childhood sweeps into view whisk me away no school on Sunday to teach me what I have lost Where are you from? learning to count with tally marks bundle popsicle sticks like kindling because to be able to quantify and speak existence to numerical law and order is to set fire to all the days hours seconds ephemeral infinities Where are your parents? Rolling words like dice on my Tongue I am tired of calculating considering
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any way to say that I don’t take kindly to interrogation but I am the only one here able to stand trial Where’s your father? When we play pretend Count tally marks with Yan Yan and Pocky smear my hollowness with Tiger Balm and call it culture seasoned in Kikkoman finery Can I be the dad? Hope it’s mine If you mistake me for Asian-raised is that my cue to bow? Which is your real mother?
