on my way to the mountain ~ a poem by erika rose higbee
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my mother tugs my hand. / she shouts, as if i am / fifteen years old leaving / our apartment at night.
>which oyster sauce
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I used to be embarrassed by the faded and slightly sticky blue linoleum. / By that accidental smell made by the neighboring bottles of spices and sauces / that shouldn’t be combined. / By the overly general name: ASIA MART. / They’re more welcoming now.
To Sculpt a Ghost ~ a poem by Tam Nguyen
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A voice-like cadence running through the family, whose members are children of many gods, telling them they are accustomed to certain kinds of death. Starvation. Salvation: too many burning desires, enough to bring down a house with it.
Dear Dairy
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Lactose intolerance has been framed by Eurocentric discourse as a bodily defect. In historically ‘less-milking’ communities like those of East and South-East Asia, milk was recommended as a laxative or a purgative.