I say
who you are
inside
is worthy.
I tell myself wo gao su zi ji 我告诉自己
it’s okay, mei guan xi 没关系
it’s fine.
Do you understand?
While you’re reading this,
没关系,
you won’t say these right.
You’ll say them like me.
Do you understand? ni dong bu dong 你懂不懂
They always look, curious
about the donation, you
didn’t receive and don’t know
why you gave it away.
I’m sorry. dui bu qi 对不起
Thin lips, knotted brow, small
smile. She’s only asking for the time,
now she wants the day, you didn’t know
love could smother; it buried that hole.
I don’t understand. wo bu dong 我不懂
Your accent is good!
You’re totally fluent!
Just listen along!
我不懂,我不懂,我不懂
You scavenge on the ground, crumbs
in the dark: scissors in biscuit tins, empty
red plastic bags, ground white
peppercorn, hoarding snippets and scraps
from girls on the street.
Stop talking. bie shuo hua 别说话
They want you to dig deep, unearthing black
vinegar like gold. They whisper, your roots;
the spoiled mice have grown fat on rice,
tossed in a bucket too deep to abandon.
Stop asking why my parents don’t speak. bie shuo hua 别说话
Don’t they know
别说话
what scrapes you raw, like leftover bones?
Didn’t they wonder
别说话
what reeks: not apple, but tree?
I say
我告诉自己
it’s not a loss
我不懂
if it’s already there,
对不起。
你懂不懂?
Si Qin discusses cultural separation as a transracially adopted Chinese-American adoptee. As a newborn poet, she addressed this poem to Chinese-speaking strangers, well-meaning friends, and her American family.