Mother Tongue
In Mandarin, my mom tells me,
The house doesn’t have any crayons.
I ask why she needs them, but she replies,
No, not crayons, the little round things.
I don’t understand. What round things?
The little round things like rice! she says.
I frown down at my own bowl of rice
before realizing, “Oh! You mean quinoa!”
As we laugh, I tuck the mistake into my heart
next to her other mispronunciations
potato gardens (botanical gardens)
watergrass (watercress)
las vegas (asparagus)
garbage (cabbage)
ingredients for a love letter
between an immigrant mother
and a second-generation daughter.
Editor’s Note: An alternate version of this poem first appeared in Philly Chapbook Review.
Sarena Tien (she/her) is a queer Chinese American writer and feminist. Once upon a time, she used to be so shy that two teachers once argued whether she was a “low talker” or “no talker,” but she’s since learned how to scream. Her poetry and prose have appeared in publications such as Bustle, The Rumpus, and Snarl. She holds a PhD in French Literature from Cornell University.
