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Kindle Notes & Highlights
Her brows twist like laundry being wrung dry.
the needle a worm laying tiny eggs that sink into brown cloth.
But our family sticks together like wet pages.
Other girls must be made of bamboo, bending whichever way they are told.
Mother smoothes back my hair, knowing the pain of a girl who loves snacks but is stranded on a ship.
I practice squeezing hisses through my teeth. Whoever invented English must have loved snakes.
No one would believe me but at times I would choose wartime in Saigon over peacetime in Alabama.
