Generational Trauma

After Ocean Vuong’s “Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong”You’re never alone when you look in the mirror. Your dad will always be your dad until one of you forgets. Your mom will always be your mom until you see her sun spots as your own, her wrinkles become your defining features and a silver ghost creeps from behind the back of your head through a tangled knot in your thinning hair until memories overlap,Bố’s, Mẹ’s, yours – ______responding in a foreign language in your hometown __________________________the soft ripples of the moon’s coldness ____________the cackling of white onions in spaghetti ________________laundry in cold showers swimming lessons to make shore __________bike rides for sugarcane juice lying on the carpet watching the Sound of Music in theaters __________________the stereo playing Beatle records ______a shipyard of cardboard boxesPolice sirens or city alarms trigger sweat behind your knees. You scratch until you break skin. Blood on your hands, you can’t tell if they’re ______the same hands that buried themselves in the hole in your chest, ______the hands that wiped hanging tears from dry eyes, ______hands suppressing screams escaping a shaking body,______or hands to hold you while you sit still in the space between return and the next line. 

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Thi Nguyen is an emerging poet, California native, born from Vietnamese refugees in San Jose, and is currently living in Los Angeles. Thi is in her final year at University of New Orleans, pursuing an online MFA in creative writing, focusing on poetry. She loves coffee and takes it with a splash of oat milk. Her recent interview with Marilyn Chin, regarding her latest book, Sage, can be read on Poetry Society of America. Liked what you just read? Consider donating today to support Southeast Asian diasporic arts!