(texts from my mother, unread and unwritten)

Have you eaten yet? Are you keeping warm?
Oh, you’re making phở? Are you going to the butcher
and telling him to pick out the best cuts,
sturdy, hardy ones you can raise a family on?
Did you remember to wash the bones before setting
them in the pot, then pouring out the first boil,
so that your phở gets made with bloodless water,
except for the marrow, hidden in the crevices
of those bones that were your favorite to suck dry?
Did you buy rau quế, rau thơm, ngò gai?
Do they even have those herbs in the markets where you are?
Are you eating enough fruits and vegetables?
What about meat? You need more blood in you, to
make your cheeks flush as the petals of the rose bush
caging our house: remember when they first bloomed?
How excited you were to capture the time lapse movement
of that first bud, opening out to embrace the sun,
tentative then sudden, growing farther away from its roots?
Did you know the shuddering wind last night almost blew it over?
Did you get your flu shot? Have you seen the news about:
The winter storm in New York? That new bird disease in London?
The bridge collapse in Virginia? Not the part you’re in, right?
When will you come back? Are you so far away because you know,
like I do, in our heart of hearts, that we are closest
when we are a million miles apart?
That you are closer to me in my thoughts
when I do not see you? Do you miss me
and think of me, like I miss you and think of you?

   


Khanh Nguyen (she/her) is a Vietnamese writer, researcher, and designer from the Bay Area. She explores themes of belonging and wandering in the different communities that she is part of – including the Southeast Asian American community and the Queer community. You may find her work in Fruitslice and Hot Pot Magazine.   WEB   INSTA
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