"the mental paradox of choosing where to live"
by Grace Hsu
my grandma sends me her rendition of amazing grace
on the harmonica. there is nothing taiwanese of the melody
or its instrument but I cry in the business building bathroom
anyways. this semester, my stovetop has borne foreign fruit:
golden curry, tomato egg, chicken ginger mushroom soup.
on my tongue, they echo their platonic forms. they rise, summon
visions of a place I once knew. like mossy giants
of mountains. like little concrete slopes that ruin sidewalks
but upon which scooters ascend to park
a thousand in a row. this is no longer real. what is? —
my corneas filling with fall leaves, snapshots of asphalt
blanched and long, sun drained of all its gold.
studying the platonic ideal of lake michigan sunsets.
learning to speak fahrenheit. this thanksgiving I rejoice over
the hibernating trees and the central heating and the two
dozen, four dozen souls that fill my days, my heart,
and i mind the gap that is the pacific. the salt-soaked miles
between me and between homes. can i play this straddling game
forever? is the eternal question. does my heart have volume
for all stars of the northern hemisphere, I ask the sky.
Grace Hsu is a TCK who grew up in Taiwan and is currently learning to put down her roots in West Michigan. On an average day, you can find her frantically studying for her speech therapy graduate degree, writing poetry, and being involved in the Mu Kappa chapter on her campus. More of Grace’s TCK poetry can be found on Instagram at @gh_starwrites.
