Poet’s Note: The second poem in this series includes homophonic translations of sơn, con, and sụn as it travels between Vietnamese and English
birthmother miss
she is I am
late to get him not by minutes but by days
a life, an epoch what were you doing
where were you all that time he
waited by the curb dancing next to empty fields
but that’s me not him
dancing impatience that turned into patience
when my real family was on their way I made myself know
not mom in our old car my real ones are coming
which is more beautiful
the feeling of their better love or my power to summon it
birthmother miss
son rose off her tongue a son in tones
the woman who would become mother listened for all of its edges
how son came through the air to her from the first in vietnamese
she could not repeat not echo right try again
level out before the curve alight then slip down but don’t drop
son in the mouth of the woman who would become mother
became a contrail, a mistaken victory; it beckoned too forwardly
she could not find the chute to get out from inside
her try she said son in english as if to explain
the birthmother translated from vietnamese: paint
son said the woman who would become mother again
in english having no fit gift the first,
trying to say what she said said sơn
sơn became soon in the woman who would become the mother’s ear
soon! she said and the birthmother translated: cartilage
birthmother miss
once there was a boy with a hole in his life he did
not mind looking into
as into a glass of soda (he was not allowed soda)
that wet his face with a harmless celebration
anyone might have
at night the hole shallowed and spread a pond with no far shore
he could touch the grass at its edge
during storms the hole moved
to the bottom of his throat
and called up a song that fell back into a few notes
he could climb down in he found
and get out again on his own
to daylight and breakfast and his life
which he almost but did not completely understand
***
Author photo courtesy of author
