After Saeed Jones
Amidst these rows
sowed with seeds of bitter gourd, I
am the undeserving grandchild.
How I wear the word: extra rice weight
caught between the crisped, browned
and glowing grains crept
to the edge of the pot. I stick
to centuries-old superstition.
Granddaughter who is no one
granddaughter who is yet to come
I need you
to scrape these edges clean.
Roll around in these glittering fields
those before have never known.
See how my eyes become milk for you?
Baskets of fruits & fake money
delivered to all your ancestors’ graves. Call me
and I’m at your side, one incense burning
behind my ear. Ask me
and I’ll make sure
you’re the best fed, with chicken.
Good luck pecking at my feet.
I could be the girl holding nothing
but palms pressed together
and bowed three times
into the smoke.
STEPHANIE CHOI lives, works, and plays in Western Massachusetts. She is a proud graduate of the University of Arizona, where she studied English & Education, and led one of the nation’s largest student-run sustainability organizations. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Cosmonauts Avenue, New Ohio Review, Gordon Square Review, and elsewhere. She enjoys baking vegan treats and where her mind arrives during a long run.