Nam Le, celebrated author of The Boat, makes his poetic debut with a collection titled, 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem. Reading these pieces, which expose the harm, humor, and difficulty of language itself for a Vietnamese refugee living in the West, we come across far more than thirty-six ways of understanding Le’s diasporic experience. Number 17, offered here, centers the kitchen as a place of generational knowledge and boundary-crossing.
[17. Culinary]
(OFFERTORY)
I put a little... see if you can guess
sweet or bitter— how know one without the other?
longan, mangosteen sapodilla star anise & lotus seed
something from the karstic north but with Western tang
passed on from my mother and her mother and hers...
blood ligament of kitchen labour wisdom all compressed
into this blank deep-strata rock. Yes, the geode pulses
with secret inward gleams but it stays silent.
Until now! Until me! My tongue rings all!
I am loud with every flavour, every humour, equally of north, south, east, west
and as she made me I will make you, mother.
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