I made you some dumplings
a poem and a gift
I’m making you dumplings,
A skill I did not learn
From my mom
As others I have known
Have inherited from their families.
Rejected by my heritage
For misplaced narratives
I learned to reconnect with my roots
Through chosen family
Who taught me
There is no right
For someone to take
The beauty of dumplings away
From me.
I’m making you dumplings,
Dear reader,
Some pork and ginger and traditional,
Some beef and coriander and spicy.
Some bubble gum and licorice and candy corn,
Some ravioli inside pop tart inside calzone.
These gifts are mine to give
And I choose to give them to you,
Some traditional and relatable
Others full of nothing but oddities
And some of you love the traditional
For the ‘right’ and ‘correct’ recipe
Yet others love the bubblegum, pop, and candy.
Rules or recipes
Strict grammar, loose grammar
No grammar at all…
You won’t know until you open them
And taste what’s tucked inside.
(yes in this poem the dumpling is a metaphor for the poem,
Which effectively
Makes this piece
Your dumpling)
