Una Poema Bilingue

Yo soy de los brown paper bags.

De los honey crisp apples, y  random pieces of paper strewn across the house.

Soy de la small house too far away,

That smells like cleaner and vanilla.

Yo soy de los sunflowers that droop over the fence,

Y el apricot tree in the old backyard,

Whose long gone limbs I remember,

As if they were my own.

Soy de being too sarcastic y watching football on Saturdays.

De Bibb, Carlson, y Tran.

Soy de discutiendo y leyendo,

Y de interrupting each other during dinner conversations.

Yo soy de you should’ve won, chúc mừng năm mới, y el 3rd movement of Sonata no. 17 in D Minor on a broken piano.

De fondue on Christmas Eve.

Yo soy de DaNang and Portland,

Chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven, bún chả, y phở.

De the time my dad fell through the chair and got stuck.

Soy de the fridge that is plastered with a collage of magnets and pictures,

That tell the stories of travels and smiles.

Yo soy de las memorias,

A small part of a dysfunctional family.