Sunlight Skin

Brown and golden, skin akin to the glistening rays at sunset.

Eyes, blue, brown, green meeting yours, glistening, dark and black and esurient.

Another day, feeling mismatched. Hand me the chopsticks?

Unless there aren’t any, fork and knife then, please.

Tonight maybe, the smell, the familiar smell, sizzling gyoza, smoky, the smell of fish,

I might be able to taste home, through that little restaurant, the little restaurant next door.

Familiar faces, familiar voices, familiar, but unfamiliar, not like me. I want to be

Unabashed, unashamed; thin lips, small eyes, low nose, it’s all lovely. But it’s so difficult,

Living here, to keep things the same as before, to keep my mother tongue.

Yet, like a puzzle that clicks and clacks into place, so does my words

Ornate sounds and pinyin, intricate; sliding into smooth letters, alphabet.

Ubiquitous is language, after all, one is many, and many is one.