
Flux Magazine
"White Rice & others" by Anh-Tho Antoinette Thi Nguyen
White Rice
Ba, can you cook some rice?
the al dente way like the Italians do
don't put too much water
we don't have to run away anymore
we can let it sit overnight and eat it tomorrow too
the spirits are dancing tonight, Ba
they're mingling in smoke clouds up to the ceiling
why do they have to leave us, Ba?
I want them to come for dinner at least
and eat with us one last time
and stay here forever.
Bedtime Story
Wipe those black-smeared tears from the bottom of your eyelids
your extended eyelashes are sticking to your cheeks
you can cry on my shoulder for as long as you'd like
in the morning, everything will be fine
they'll pick up,
and give you good news
mother and father will look you in the eye and say they are proud of you
I swear
you've done your duty
you've paid your debts
don't worry
those fairy stories immigrant parents tell their children at bedtime
are not true.
Ground Teeth
She keeps grinding her
teeth at night.
Clench,
smash tooth to tooth,
incisor to incisor, never
slack-jawed
always on edge.
Her teeth will
have dents by
morning - tiny bullet
holes, jagged mountains
on the tips of her
pearly whites.
They don't fracture, they
bruise, wear down
slowly, quietly erode
underneath the ocean.
Sand caught by a
nameless oyster,
kept there,
until it sheens with a sweet
'Come hither.'
I've never seen it broken,
simply worn, damaged.
Soft, soft white
roundish and gleaming.