Inside Out & Back Again

by Thanhhà Lại

Everything on the altar remains for the day except the portrait. Mother locks it away as soon as her chant ends. She cannot bear to look into Father’s forever-young eyes.

From now on Fridays will be for happy news. No one has anything to say.

Sometimes I whisper tuyt sút to myself to pretend I know him.

I am proud of my ability to save until I see tears in Mother’s deep eyes. You deserve to grow up where you don’t worry about saving half a bite of sweet potato.

Black seeds spill like clusters of eyes, wet and crying.

The first hot bite of freshly cooked rice, plump and nutty, makes me imagine the taste of ripe papaya although one has nothing to do with the other.

Mother says, People share when they know they have escaped hunger. Shouldn’t people share because there is hunger?

Brother Quang says, NO! What’s the point of new shirts and sandals if you lose the last tangible remnant of love? I don’t understand what he said but I agree.

Then by chance Mother learns sponsors prefer those whose applications say “Christians.” Just like that Mother amends our faith, saying all beliefs are pretty much the same.

Whoever invented English must have loved snakes.

People living on others’ goodwill cannot afford political opinions.

Whoever invented English should be bitten by a snake.

I step back, hating pity, having learned from Mother that the pity giver feels better, never the pity receiver.

Would be simpler if English and life were logical.

Mostly I wish I were still smart.

Whoever invented English should have learned to spell.

Things will get better, just you wait. I don’t believe her but it feels good that someone knows.

No one would believe me but at times I would choose wartime in Saigon over peacetime in Alabama.

There’s more; it’s really bad. She lifts an eyebrow. At dawn on Tt I tapped my big toe to the tile floor first. She widens her eyes. I hate being told I can’t do something because I’m a girl!

And you want me to wait? Can I hit them? Oh, my daughter, at times you have to fight, but preferably not with your fists.

Enough time for them to repeat hundreds of Boo-Das. Enough time for me to turn and yell, Gee-sus, Gee-sus. I love how they stop, mouths open.