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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Pauline Chu


 

Portals

When I was six, I read the Joy Luck Club
pages well-loved, school-read,
covered in cobwebs, creases, and

something ancient.
A memory that was not mine
hung on me like Spanish moss:

rocked on a boat with empty eyes;
wailing mouths swallowed by the wind;
broken lines in a refugee camp in Arkansas;

I saw my blood humming beneath my palms,
too small to contain the words I drank,
yet parched for those tea-stained pages

I didn't know then what I know now—
that in those stories, I searched for my mother
and found her sleeping in the past