America the Delicious

At a Thai restaurant in Kowloon,

I’m waiting for my green curry and duck

when my aunt asks me about American food,

and I’m looking down on this view—

the Times Square of Asia, wondering why, oh dear,

Auntie, why do you want to know

about American food when you live in Asia,

the food continent of the world,

and I’ll say it once and I’ll say it again, goddamn

Marco Polo stole our noodles,

passing them off as spaghetti, and I know it’s all

a myth, but don’t steal my food,

don’t steal my dumplings, don’t steal my spring rolls

rolled by my father, who used to

make miniature ones for our beloved Buzzie,

and in Kowloon, my green curry and duck

comes, and I’m already ready for dessert,

because there’s nothing better in life than eating,

other than kissing all night long and coconut

coconut coconut, the mango sticky rice comes

in purple and the Woon Bai Toey, and I wonder:

Just what is so sweet about America: America

the Delicious, America of the hot dogs drizzled

in ketchup and mustard, not fancy Dijon,

only classic and yellow, classic and yellow, throw in

grilled onions and a pickle, and some

days I’m really craving a large pickle in my mouth,

sour and suck, sour and suck, followed by a large

bowl of rice, but who am I kidding, as a grown ass

woman, my father still scolds me for not finishing

the whole bowl, because I’m not a good little

Chinese girl, and I know that combination’s odd,

but you’ve got to admit that deep frying everything

at the fair is on a whole other level of aliens

landing, getting confused level of weird, and I try

explaining deep-fried butter to my aunt,

or what deep-fried Oreos or deep-fried cookie dough

or deep-fried bubblegum or deep-fried

Twinkies, aren’t you ever the most adorable thing,

and my aunt wants to know more, she wants

to taste the craze: the cereal on donuts,

the cheesecakes dipped in blue raspberry

chocolate, the chicken and waffles, chicken

and waffles and edible flowers and ketchup

chips and cupcakes and don’t you ever stop

by the cake section of your grocery store and just

want to lick an entire bowl of blue icing,

because life is too short, and I really could use another

Thai iced tea as Kowloon kids are lining

up for gai daan jai, the Chinese egg waffles,

the Queen of Hong Kong street food, and an ocean

away, New Yorkers are lining up for the same

waffles but with sprinkles and Fruity Pebbles

and Pocky and marshmallows, and that’s a little

too much, and America, you’re delicious,

but stop tainting my Hong Kong street food—

stop tainting that legendary mile-long line waiting

for their gai daan jai and fish balls and my cousin

goes crazy over that curry and curry

squid and octopus tentacles and fried pig intestines

and egg tarts and siu mai, and oh,

Hong Kong, you cutie, you’re delicious—

don’t you ever change, and yes, I’ll take

a couple fish balls on a skewer to go.

—

This selection comes from Dorothy Chan’s full-length book, Revenge of the Asian Woman, available from Diode Editions.  Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Danielle Hanson.

Ode for Baby Pandas, Hong Kong Mornings, and My Grandmother

The one English word my grandmother knows is beautiful—

Beautiful, like pandas knocking over buckets of leaves

in Sichuan, over and over again, and their nanny moves them

to a corner, their adoring fans waiting with cameras,

and if I won a million dollars, I’d fly across the ocean

in a heartbeat just to hug them, just to give them cardboard

to rip, just to see them trot along on their merry way,

ready to cause more destruction, ready to knock over

more buckets of leaves, and it’s beautiful, and speaking of cute,

I’d take a date with baby pandas over a date

with the celebrity dreamboat of my fantasies any day,

even if said date included a view of Tokyo Tower

and raw oysters and every caviar imaginable and the best lobster

in the world and a nice serving of uni and a little Cioppino

and pistachio gelato and some French fries with sweet ketchup

on the side, and Do you want to go out for a steak

later? I’d like it nice and rare, nice and rare, and that’s everything

I want, but I want the pandas more, and it’s beautiful

the way the panda expert on television declares that pandas

are beautiful because they remind us of our own children,

and I’m jealous of travel show hosts who get to cuddle them,

because I think about their black and white goodness,

like black and white cookies or Little Debbie Chocolate Cupcakes

with their oh so twee vanilla spirals, reminding me

of cute girls wearing cute blouses with black ribbons,

and I’m not pure enough to pull that off, but I appreciate

the effort, ladies—beautiful—and what about blackout cake

or white truffles or my favorite Hong Kong drink of all time,

the yuenyeung, the yin yang, the divine East Asian morning

concoction of three parts coffee and seven parts milk tea,

and it’s eight, not seven that’s the lucky number in Chinese

culture, but that’s beside the point, because this drink is

beautiful, beautiful with a Hong Kong breakfast of noodles

and ham in broth or what about condensed milk on toast,

a side of Asian sausage, or what about plain and simple

congee—what a beautiful morning, and oh, my grandmother’s

so beautiful, and it’s beautiful how beautiful is the only word

she knows in the English language, and I love how she loves

girls wearing double buns because they remind her of pandas

and I think it’s beautiful how the Scottish Fold next door

makes her smile like she’s a kid again, and she wants

to let him in, but I’m allergic, but oh that smile—beautiful,

like my first memory with her, making cookies in the shape

of camels, and if I won a million dollars,

I’d fly across the ocean, take my grandmother with me

to play with pandas in Sichuan, order her a bowl of noodles

with lots of beef and tripe, and oh, do you see those baby pandas

knocking over those buckets of leaves—beautiful.

—

This selection comes from Dorothy Chan’s full-length book, Revenge of the Asian Woman, available from Diode Editions.  Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Danielle Hanson.

Triple Sonnet for My Aggressive Forehead

Dad thinks my forehead is too Godzilla, too Tarzan,

too Wonder Woman, tells me not to tie my hair back,

exposing it, like it’s the Frankenstein Monster

from beneath my childhood bed,

or the mollusk that challenged the world,

and Dad, I love you, but you should know

that I’m a nightmare as a woman

who can make the earth stand still,

calling all UFOs from planets beyond

to paint me on canvas just as I am:

a Chinese girl nicknamed Yellow Fever,

chowing down on all the pork buns

and chicken biscuits and shrimp bánh mì,

at the buffet, and of course, all the men

as I star in my own B-movie, give it an XXX,

every girl’s dream of playing opposite

King Kong, and you know I’m not some Fay Wray

who screams at the sight of a hand,

and Dad, I think about all the ape toys

you bought me when I was a child,

because you never wanted me to be alone,

never wanted me to go a day without

laughing or plotting, and did I mention

that you were born on Halloween

which makes me half evil—I’m joking,

but Dad, you’ve got to let me keep my forehead,

despite your old school Chinese beliefs

of girls hiding their warrior brains,

and I know you’re just looking out for me,

but my forehead has its own life,

like an invisible screen—one-way glass

where the ad men are watching the women

try on lipstick, but in my forehead

it’s the other way around, because let’s let

the boys play, and the girls watch for once,

because every lip could use a bit more

rouge, purple, crimson, burnt orange, hot pink,

how at once, I want to dress up

as a flight attendant, an accountant,

someone in the front of the class holding a ruler

and yes, if I fill out a survey

from a sex magazine, I’m checking off

forehead as my favorite body part.

—

This selection comes from Dorothy Chan’s full-length book, Revenge of the Asian Woman, available from Diode Editions.  Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Danielle Hanson.

Triple Sonnet for Sad Asian Girls 

I’m watching a video about sad Asian girls

who reenact scenes from their Asian families:

one girl plays the other girl’s mother,

saying to her, “Why are you eating so much?”

the bowl of rice and kimchi dish

on the dinner table, and “I want to go back

to Korea next year, so lose some weight,”

and I want to cry, because sometimes,

I too, am a sad Asian girl with demanding

parents who want to go back to Hong Kong

every year, and sure, everyone’s got

family drama, but my mother ran off

with my father in her twenties—marriage,

coming to America, away from her parents.

And I know my mother misses her sisters

every day, separated by an ocean,

or a flashback to when I was born:

snowy Albany, my mother crying,

begging my father to move back to Hong Kong,

she missed her pajama stalls and medicine shops

and taro desserts and family celebrations

gathered around a mango cake—she didn’t understand

America, and I don’t understand Hong Kong—

her Hong Kong, the way she grew up

with two sisters, giggling after dinner,

running down to buy shrimp crackers and British

chocolates once the meal was over,

and I’m watching a video about sad Asian girls,

thinking about my mother and I fighting

at one of those cheap cafes by my grandparents’,

tasting my own tears as I swallowed my toast

with condensed milk, and I never cry,

but deep down I am a sad Asian girl

watching her parents fight in their homeland,

and I think about my mother at nineteen

falling in love with my father at thirty-three

and moving to America at twenty-five,

and I won’t ever understand her Hong Kong

or her America, and I think back to me

at five, my mother telling me a story

about her favorite doll, how she held it like a daughter.

A daughter was all she ever wanted.

—

This selection comes from Dorothy Chan’s full-length book, Revenge of the Asian Woman, available from Diode Editions.  Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Danielle Hanson.

—

This selection comes from Dorothy Chan’s full-length book, Revenge of the Asian Woman, available from Diode Editions.  Purchase your copy here! Our curator for this selection is Danielle Hanson.