Inside Out and Back Again (5 page)

was very salty.

Mother gives me a tamarind candy.

I have never been

so thrilled

to drink my saliva.

Finally President Thi
u appears,

tan and sweaty.

We know you have suffered.

I thank you,

your country thanks you
.

Then he cries actual tears,

unwiped, facing the cameras.

Mother clicks her tongue:

Tears of an ugly fish.

I know that to mean

fake tears of a crocodile.

April 12

Mother measures

rice grains

left in the bin.

Not enough to last

till payday

at the end of the month.

Her brows

twist like laundry

being wrung dry.

Yam and manioc

taste lovely

blended with rice,

she says, and smiles,

as if I don’t know

how the poor

fill their children’s bellies.

April 13

A siren screams

over Miss Xinh’s voice

in the middle of a lesson

on smiley and bald

President Ford.

We all know it’s bad news.

School’s now closed;

everyone must go home

a month too soon.

I’m mad and pinch the girl

who shares my desk.

Tram is half my size,

so skinny and nervous.

Our mothers are friends.

She will tell on me.

She always tells on me.

Mother will again

scold me to be gentle.

I need time

to finish this riddle:

A man usually rides his bike

9 kilometers per hour,

yet the wind slows him

to 6.76 kilometers

for 26 minutes

and 5.55 kilometers

for 10;

how long until he gets home

11.54 kilometers away?

The first to solve it

gets the sweet potato plant

sprouting at the window.

I want to plant it

beside my papaya tree,

where vines can climb

and shade ripening fruit.

Again I pinch Tram,

knowing the plant

will be awarded

today

to the teacher’s pet,

who is always

skinny and nervous

and never me.

April 14

Five papayas

the sizes of

my head,

a knee,

two elbows,

and a thumb

cling to the trunk.

Still green

but promising.

April 15

Uncle S
n,

Father’s best friend,

visits us.

He’s short, dark, and smiley,

not tall, thin, and serious

like Father in photographs.

Still, when classmates

ask about my father,

sometimes short and smiley

come to mind

before I can stop it.

Uncle S
n goes straight

to the kitchen,

where the back door opens into

an alley.

Unbelievable luck!

This door bypasses the navy checkpoint

and leads straight to the port
.

I will not risk

fleeing with my children

on a rickety boat.

Would a navy ship

meet your approval?

As if the navy

would abandon its country?

There won’t be a South Vietnam

left to abandon.

You really believe

we can leave?

When the time comes,

this house

is our bridge

to the sea.

April 16

Mother calls a family meeting.

Ông Xuân has sold

leaves of gold

to buy twelve airplane tickets.

Bà Nam has a van

ready to load

twenty-five relatives

toward the coast.

Mother asks us,

Should we leave our home?

Brother Quang says,

How can we scramble away

like rats,

without honor, without dignity,

when everyone must help

rebuild the country?

Brother Khôi says,

What if Father comes home

and finds his family gone?

Brother V
says,

Yes, we must go.

Everyone knows he dreams

of touching the same ground

where Bruce Lee walked.

Mother twists her brows.

I’ve lived in the North.

At first, not much will happen,

then suddenly Quang

will be asked to leave college.

Hà will come home

chanting the slogans

of H
Chí Minh,

and Khôi will be rewarded

for reporting to his teacher

everything we say in the house.

Her brows twist

so much

we hush.

April 17

Brother Khôi shakes me

before dawn.

I follow him

to the back garden.

In his palm chirps

a downy yellow fuzz,

just hatched.

He presses his palm

against my squeal.

No matter what Mother decides,

we are not to leave
.

I must protect my chick

and you your papayas.

He holds out his pinky

and stares

stares

stares

until I extend mine

and we hook.

April 18

Dinnertime

I help Mother

peel sweet potatoes

to stretch the rice.

I start to chop off

a potato’s end

as wide as

a thumbnail,

then decide

to slice off

only a sliver.

I am proud

of my ability

to save

until I see

tears

in Mother’s

deep eyes.

You deserve to grow up

where you don’t worry about

saving half a bite

of sweet potato.

April 19

We pretend

the monsoon

has come early.

In the distance

bombs

explode like thunder,

slashes

lighten the sky,