the hidden
By Truong Tran
known for her cooking the consistent
perfection of spring rolls evenly fried
her secret to brush it
with just a hint of apple juice
to add some color give some flavor
she is the mother of five a wife
a widow it is easy to forget
her strength in its subtlety
she keeps it hidden
like the smell of apple juice
that reminds me
of my family the eighteen days
we spent on a tanker
the sticky metal floors streaked
with the vomit of children crying
a pearl a day she removed
from a string milky white marbles
on an army issued blanket
a make-shift playground
that kept what was ours
i would have to be good
no crying no complaining
it was mine to keep it was mine to lose
being thirsty that i remember
drinking juice from a can tomato
apple a concoction of both
my mother traded her red jade bracelet
for a jar of water
the kind you drank if you had money to buy
if you spoke korean the kind
that was plain without the taste of salt
she said uống từ từ—drink it slowly
i was given a third of this precious water
the rest she saved hid in a suitcase
Copyright Credit: Truong Tran, "The Hidden" from Placing the Accents. Copyright © 1999 by Truong Tran. Reprinted by permission of Apogee Press.
Source: Placing the Accents (Apogee Press, 1999)