A Visit with Janet Wong & A SUITCASE OF SEAWEED

Hello and Happy Poetry Friday! Be sure to visit lovely Linda at TeacherDance for Roundup.

I'm delighted today to welcome poet and publisher Janet Wong to share some poems from her book A SUITCASE OF SEAWEED: And Other Poems (McElderry Books, 1996). 
I happened upon this book at a book store on St. Simon Island (GA) earlier this year, and was enchanted by the poems that reflect Janet's Korean, Chinese, and American heritage. You'll find Janet's comments below in blue.  I particularly love Janet's last comment about identity - who we are vs. who we want to be. See below! Thank you, Janet, for sharing with us today!
JW: My mother was paralyzed from polio as a child. Her cure: acupuncture, hundreds of needles daily for a year. This was in rural Korea in the late 1940s. If you were to visit an acupuncturist in the U.S. today, you’d probably receive only a dozen needles in a session. But the way she described it to me as a child, poking her finger all over me, I imagined them turning her into a porcupine.
Acupunctureby Janet Wong
"Chook! Chook! Chook!"Mother says each timeshe digs her fingerinto my skinto show me wherethe doctor stuckhundred of needlesin her swollen, still,fever-filled body,when she was twelve.
I have a picture in my mindof how she looked -- Chook!My mother, oncea porcupine.
JW: I got my first acupuncture treatment after a severe ankle sprain, when I was a teen. Acupuncture, as it’s practiced here, is not supposed to hurt, but my mother believes that it’s only working if it hurts. My mother kept telling the acupuncturist, “More needles! More deeper!” I ended up with double the amount he originally had inserted. The pain was quite intense when he twisted the needles halfway through the session. I did my best for the next few days to hide my hobbling from my mom so that I wouldn’t need to return. ---------------------------------------
Sistersby Janet Wong
She calls me tofubecause I am so soft,easily falling apart.
I wish I were toughand full of fire, like ginger--like her.

JW: This is just one example of why I am “tofu” and my mother is “ginger." Tofu is not just soft; it weeps. (Put a piece on a plate in the refrigerator and the next day you’ll see what I mean.) I wrote a poem about this difference between my mother and me, but chose to call it “Sisters” since I don’t have a sister and could then tell my mother that it was totally made up. ------------------------------------------
JW: About identity: Race matters, of course, but I worry when we overemphasize race and ignore other things that make up who we are; I’ve written many poems about the complex issue of identity. Now, at the beginning of the school year, the question for many kids (especially teens) isn’t “Who am I?” but rather “Who do I want to be?"
Which?by Janet Wong
Two dresses hangside by sideon the sale rack,the tag of one so wornit seems the pricewas not believed,but looked at, at least twice,by many who might buy.
It is real: thisblack velvet gownovergrown withlush, bright flowersis cheap, dirt cheap,even cheaper thanthe simple chambray dresssome careless handhas pressed up against its back,the white plastic hangercrushing one velvet flower.
Which one is you?Wear this plain blue frocktwice a week and feel safe,no one will talk;but wear the other,with its strange powerthat makes you thinkthat boys will swoon,
and a second timea season is too soon.