Family Work
3 A.M. Lok-Yeay rose from
her bamboo bed, rubbed kindling,
blew and blew on embers,
ashes on cracked face and dry hair.
She boiled rice in red clay pot,
diced garlic, minced pork,
fried morning glories.
She placed the bamboo pole
on her shoulder,
different dishes on each side,
and rushed to the train station
in Monkulburi, Battambang.
“I did what I must,” she told me,
“To keep all of us from starvation.”
Decades later in America, my uncle
made eggs and toast for his kids,
and rice gruel with salted fish
for himself and his wife.
He dropped his children at school,
his wife at the train station in Malden,
then drove to the video store in Chelsea.
He converted anyone who walked
through the door with his smile
and a “Good morning, Sir.”
When asked about his seven-day work
schedule, he said, “When the Khmer Rouge
made you dig ditches and carry mud in the sun
all day, every day, until your body trembled
in fever, everything after is a gift.”
This past week in Wakefield
to celebrate her son’s wedding
my aunt and her sister fried rice,
made spring rolls, marinated wings,
dressed papaya salad in fish sauce,
lime, and chilis, argued with one another.
Seeing them stressed, I suggested
ordering food from a local vendor.
Her answer, “My great joy is
seeing my son and his American wife
eat the food I make. See their happiness
come from these hands.”
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Bunkong Tuon is the author of several poetry collections. His writings have appeared in World Literature Today, New York Quarterly, Copper Nickel, Massachusetts Review, The American Journal of Poetry, diode poetry journal, among others. His debut novel, Koan Khmer, is forthcoming from Curbstone Press. He is poetry editor of Cultural Daily. He teaches at Union College, in Schenectady, NY. His website: https://www.bunkongtuon.com/.
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Stone Poetry Quarterly 