ba ngoai

My grandmother cries
tears creating oceans,
wide,
pacific,
separating her
from sons, daughters.

Her monsoon tears
have watered,
quenched,
bathed.

My tears never created anything.
they don’t know how.
They only know to ask
why doesn’t he love me.

My only Vietnamese
is her only English.
cảm ơn,
thank you

ba ngoai

My grandmother cries
tears creating oceans,
wide,
pacific,
separating her
from sons, daughters.

Her monsoon tears
have watered,
quenched,
bathed.

My tears never created anything.
they don’t know how.
They only know to ask
why doesn’t he love me.

My only Vietnamese
is her only English.
cảm ơn,
thank you

Sonny Nguyen 25, Seattle

FIRST POEM In third grade, I embraced my identity as pretentious artist and presented a report on falcons via short, first-person poems.
EARLY WATER MEMORY A family member read that kids have the natural ability to swim, so he threw me in the pool. He was wrong.
TAP WATER MEMORY In the LA area when I was a kid, tap water was considered unsafe. We bought water at “the water store”—storefronts that sold nothing but jugs, coolers, and clean water.

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