The Empty Suitcase: An End of Semester It was like a normal, ordinal day: I worked part-time and had some appointments in the afternoon. I needed to finish my literary analysis paper for an English class before having fun on Saturday night. In the evening, I wanted to write the paper, and I wanted to eat dinner, straighten my naturally curly hair, dress up in a pretty summer dress. Until sometime in the morning, I wanted to have a good time with my friends and strangers, which was my ordinal plan on that Saturday.
But the ordinal plan is always changed; perhaps, distracted by ‘emergency’ situations. At first, I called my mother because I totally forgot her birthday. I am never sure when my mother’s birthday is, which is always changing between the 16th and 19th in April. Her birthday seems to change every year so I usually called around the 18th. Sometimes I called her on the exact day but sometimes I wished her happy birthday hours; perhaps a couple of days, later, but I excuse…
PHONE RECEIVER ------------------ After Norman Dubie and for A.K.
“Nobody is perfect,” a poet tosses me a white paper airship and I thought it was ash, the ashen love letter. There is limited mind in his eyes with eternal excuses for a blue-birdhouse, gunpowder, or the virginity. I’m the stone nude under the half
moon and still feel Indian summer on his palms. In late June he devoted his tears for a hydrangea. It’s 1983, on his ex-wife’s birthday. The dewdrops from the moon wash away the star- sky maps on straddling spider webs. He was pure, the pure blue deer. I start
writing poems so I can see my past for the sleepless night. I know the smell from the center of his room like the early spring moon, popcorn, and the yellow milk. A corn husk- feathery heart bares under my shaved ribs like a hairless cat; your cat is always selfishness. It’s still preparing to leave,
returning to your heated kitchen. Roasted pork bones are on the table and peppers fragment on the broken white, the lilies. You pick up the receiv…
The Empty Suitcase: Filling Me Up with the Soul Foods
The 9th Annual International Food Festival at IUSB on April 5 was the most fantastic food festival the International Student Organization has ever had! For a cover charge of $9, guests can taste any Asian, European, Middle Eastern, South African, South American, and even North American homemade traditional food in buffet style. Foods were unbelievably delicious since I have never had a tasty appetite from Malaysia, noodles from Indonesia, a main dish from Zimbabwe, an intermission hotdog from America, and dessert from Ukraine. The main cafeteria, The Grille, was packed with hundreds of locals and others representing mixed cultures, America.
I had greeting kisses with South Americans, hugging with South Africans, shaking hands with Arabians, and smiling and bowing with Asians, and then all the people asked me, “Did you cook Japanese food?”
This is the most painful question for the international student, me, who had attended four fo…