By Grace Fang ’23
i am from cloth diapers and rough hands against smooth baby bottoms.
i am from a fresh start and desperation and flight. i am from naivety, fantasy fiction, scribbles on the corners of notes. i am from arrival and departure, moving and settling.
i am from ant infestations and shitty landlords.
i am from the crisp wind and peppermint —
too bright sun and too hard rain, pin needle heat.
i am from surgical masks and muffled coughs.
i am from the stir fry and stink eye —
the chink, clink of pots and pans and fans on the no-longer gas, now electric, stove.
i am from the bubbling heat of tendering flesh.
i am from the loudest children and quietest death. i am from the callus of middle fingers and tense necks. i am from the softest cotton and lotioned skin.
i am from vitamin gummies and sesame-covered treats with red bean filling.
i am from a country, red and furious and faraway.
i am from unfulfilled promises and shame and —
i am from me and you.
“i am from”
-grace fang ’23