“There’s nothing I can’t trace back to my coarse immigrant blood.”
— Jenny Xie, Chinatown Diptych
arriving no longer by boat
we jump from the clouds
our faces flagged in yellow tinted stars
a tearing warmth of blood red
distancing ourselves from the
sweet-potato-smell of mother’s kitchen
we roam under a different sky
drunk and dazed we forget the taste of our youth
drifting amidst shapeless dreams
sugar-coated in red white and blue
we lift our souls to sing and to pray
to seek direction from a foreign moon
worrying the Land of the Free
will free us from our past
we bite hard into our tongues to trap
the tears of Mother Land
With aim, we will soar on untouchable wings.