he seems to think it will be there for him
just hanging there
in the closet
waiting for him
whenever he wants to put it back on
later, before I go to sleep
in my journal I write a short poem
lonely is when the language outside
isn’t the language inside
and words are made of just 26 letters
and I wonder if
I should make it longer
then maybe one day
show it to Zena
or read it
at one of those workshops
at the Newall Center
the day before my next session
at the Newall Center
I text Sam on the cell phone
that Toby and I are supposed to share
but that I’ve claimed
asking if we can talk
maybe have pizza
after our writing sessions
before Chris picks us up
Sam replies sure
that day I also have dance club
and even though so much
is new to me
the captain Tracy
compliments me
on how fast I pick up
the moves
and on my style in the
catch steps
and height in the
fan kicks
and then the other girls
and the two guys in the club
start to talk to me
a little more
and the whole rest of the day
seems easier
on Wednesday
in my bag for the Newall Center
I put poems printed from websites
and copied from anthologies that
the school librarian helped me find—
one by Billy Collins
about tying a poem to a chair
to beat the meaning out of it
another by Li-Young Lee about his father
watching his mother put up her hair
and one by Lucille Clifton about hips
which is the one I decide to start with
because I think it will make Zena smile
especially that last line
and it does
her mouth goes wide
she does that throaty growl
and spells a-g-a-i-n
after I read the hip poem again
I read Li-Young Lee’s
about putting up hair
then I ask Zena what we should
write about today
and she spells
b-r-e-a-s-t-s
I hold my breath
try to keep from blurting
in Japanese I’m good at controlling my words
but in English it’s like I leave the gate open
and words dart out before I can catch them
so this time I close the gate on
the no, anything but breasts
that I want to say
then after a pause
a few breaths
I say well, okay
as long as we don’t take turns
as long as she goes first
for a while I just say the colors of the letter board
watch her eyes
write the letters
guess the words
the poem grows
and it seems Zena
has been thinking
about breasts all week
ever since I told her why
we moved here
Zena spells
14 Ways of Looking at a Breast
baby sanctuary
young girl’s embarrassment
sexy woman’s blessing
melon, nectarine, boob, bazoonga
permanent protuberance
excuse for lingerie
cause for coverage
bull’s-eye
nourishment
comfort
source of pride
source of cancer
gravity’s friend
half of a pair
but like eyes
even one
is better
than none
when she reaches the end
Zena looks exhausted, resting
then she glances at the letter board
and spells u
me? I say
she looks up
on breasts?
she looks up again
I’m not sure about this
I don’t have any ideas
I tell her I’ll think for a bit
scribble a while
then share
so I scribble
start to write
we never asked for them
they just appear
like bamboo shoots
and I stop, realizing that Zena
coming from Massachusetts
probably doesn’t know
how bamboo shoots push up
through the ground
how some grow tall as trees in days
Madoka’s aunt, the one that’s missing
had a room in her house
that was closed up and never used
and once she went in and found vines
lining walls and a bamboo shoot
poking up through flooring
already thigh high
but Zena is waiting
so I mess with my words
and at the top of my paper
draw a furry bamboo shoot
just coming up
through leafy soil
I show her the drawing of the shoot
and the hoelike tool for harvesting
and read my poem:
Breasts
we never asked for them
they just sprout like bamboo shoots
then someone comes along
with a tool
to harvest them
I glance at Zena
and my eyes tear
and I apologize
for writing such
a depressing poem
Zena looks up
then at the letter board
and she spells
i-t w-i-l-l b o-k
s-u-r-g-e-o-n-s h-a-v-e b-e-t-t-e-r t-o-o-l-s
t-h-a-n t-h-a-t
and I smile a little
and nod
I see it’s nearly five
so I tell Zena I have to go
even though this isn’t a very
cheery way to end our session
Zena doesn’t look up
I raise the letter board
and Zena spells
s-o-o-n n-e-w c-o-m-p-u-t-e-r
new computer? for you?
how? I say where’d the funding come from?
p-r-i-v-a-t-e d-o-n-a-t-i-o-n-s she spells
wow! I say
your angels!
Zena spells
w-r-i-t-e m-o-r . . .
more poems?
she looks up
and I tell her
okay, you, too
and I turn to leave
but as I step out
a woman is coming in
oh, you must be the new poet!
I’m Emma I say
nice to meet you, Emma
I’m Anne, Zena’s sister
usually here o
n Thursdays or Sundays
but this week is complicated
and Anne looks younger
all gesture and movement
like Zena is supposed to be
and suddenly I’m acutely aware
of all that Zena’s lost
but then I’m glad for her
that she has this
a visiting sister
when I find room 427
and pause at the doorway
Sam is still writing for Leap Sok
I listen at the threshold
to their lilting Khmer words
glance around the room
note the bright painting
of what I think is Angkor Wat
when I take a step forward
inside the room
Chea Pen squints at me
not quite seeing, it seems
Leap Sok stops talking
feebly waves me in
with what I realize is his only arm
I apologize for interrupting
and without thinking
greet them both by bowing
respectful Japanese-style
they all three look at me
amused
Sam says some words in Khmer, then says
you were born in Japan?
and I say no, but lived there
since I was a baby
Chea Pen and Leap Sok look to Sam
Sam says something to them in Khmer
and they both start to speak
Sam says
they want to know why—
are you a diplomat’s kid?
army kid?
no, my dad works for a Japanese company I say
my mom teaches at a university
they met in Japan when they were college students
studying the language
Sam translates
there’s some back-and-forth
then Sam says
they want to know about now—
the earthquake, the tsunami
did you come back because of radiation?
I already told them about your mother
and I’m surprised to know Sam knows about my mother
but then I remember he sat in YiaYia’s living room
and he probably learned all sorts of things
from her
about us
about me
I say no, we didn’t come because of radiation
our town is far from the damaged reactor
if my mother wasn’t sick we’d be there
and I add
Japan’s my home
I tell them that our furniture, our things
are still there in the house
my cat is still there with my friend
our home is still there
just not us
we’ll go back I say
when my mother is better
Sam glances down
nods
then Sam gathers his things
sets the chair against the wall
has some conversation in Khmer
and places his hands together raising them
with a slight bow, muttering something
and adding in English
see you next week
what’s that? I say in the hall
when you put your hands together
this? he says
and raises his hands
palms touching
like he did in the room
sompeas he says
it’s like a sign of respect—
when you greet a Cambodian
you do that and say
chum reap sour
I do sompeas
mumble the words
try to commit them to memory
for next week
outside it has started to rain
and feels cold enough to snow
even though it’s only October
I wrap my scarf around my neck
and we hurry across the bridge against the wind
and into the heat of the pizza place
where we order slices
and I choose spinach
which at home I eat as ohitashi—
a side dish with ground sesame and soy sauce
but which I’ve never before eaten
on pizza
at the table we sit across from each other
with our slices and sodas
and I realize I’ve never done this
sit with a guy I hardly know
at a restaurant
without other friends around
and I’m suddenly nervous
to fill the silence I name pizza combos in Japan
corn and tuna
potato mayo
teriyaki chicken
I tell him I like this spinach kind
that I can’t get in Japan
but I feel idiotic sitting there with Sam
babbling on, talking blather
as Mr. Hays used to say in English class
I take a breath to slow myself
then we talk about poems and Zena
and Sam says there was another poet
who worked with her for a couple years
a guy who graduated last year and is now
at college and that’s why they wanted me
to work with Zena
but I’m not a poet I say
I just write stuff in my journal
or for school
whatever Sam says
if you work with Zena
you’ll be writing tons of poems—
that guy who worked with her and
who I bet is her “sexy man”
started writing and ended up winning a contest
and got a scholarship to a university
where they have a special creative writing program
I ask Sam what he did with Leap Sok today
and he says mostly Lok Ta Leap
was correcting his mistakes in Khmer
he says his mother has always made him study Khmer
but it’s not as good as his English
our high school doesn’t offer Khmer, you know
that’s why my mother and stepfather
wanted me to stay in Lowell
where the high school has it
at all different levels
I’m confused—I say
your mother?
I thought you lived with your uncle
I do, but I have a mother . . .
and a stepfather? I ask
and a stepfather he says
plus a father—
loads of adults
want one?
no thanks I say
I’m good for adults
and we laugh
I ask why he lives with Chris
and not his mother
or father
he says
it’s complicated
and I think, okay
note to self:
don’t ask about family
I finish the part with the cheese and spinach
and I’m chewing my way through thick crust
when he says
my mom’s Khmer
she was supposed to marry a Khmer
but she worked and went to community college
then started classes at the university
where she met my father, Chris’s brother
then got pregnant
I nod, set down my crust
wait for him to continue
after they got married
things were okay for a while
my dad finished school
got a job
in New Hampshire
and they moved
but she hated it there
so they fought
and he started drinking
and she moved back to Lowell
and I went back and forth
between New Hampshire and Massachusetts
then after the divorce she married a Cambodian dude
and had two more kids
whoa I say
when he pauses to
start in on his second slice
so how old are they?
Van, my little brother, is seven
my sister Lena’s ten
there’s more he says
Sam continues
my dad was kind of a mess
so I came back to Lowell
moved in with my mom and stepfather
but their apartment’s ultra-small
and I had to sleep in the living room
because Lena and Van had the other bedroom
so I stayed out a lot
messed up in school, drank a lot
made my stepfather mad
and my mother didn’t know what to do
and it all just made me and them crazy
so finally I ran away
stayed with the older brother of a friend
and eventually I called Chris
and he came and got me
that was three years ago
it was supposed to be just temporary he says
but after a while everyone just
agreed to let me live there
The Language Inside Page 6