poetry imitation exercise

An imitation I wrote of Chinese Restaurant Syndrome by Adrienne Su featured in:

Untitled

Aafia Syed

The chance that your ancestral home is kept within grasp by warm-colored

spices and thin, tessellated cloth while words like ruhaniyat

are left behind gathering dust.

The inevitability that your first language which carries infinite lives

will be distilled into twenty-six letters and the best of intentions. The recognition

that this might not be a tragedy; it may be just one setting of the sun.

The high possibility that people who look like you will talk,

because a tree growing capable of bearing fruit never before seen in its forest

is worth talking about.

The years that have passed since your mother's idea of rebellion

was refusing to carry a tray of chai and telling your father it's right there

when he asked for more sugar. He has loved her ever since.

The gratitude with which a nani sits hunched over in a chair

that has been emptied just for her; the gratitude with which her children's

children accept from her the money they must first reject at least twice.

The ritual by which shoes are discarded at the entrance.

The hospitality of goodbyes that last just long enough for those who are leaving

to know they are both welcome to have stayed and welcome to return.

The ease with which the hands of a mother expertly slide cooked rotis,

fingers peeling them away from the burning pan without fear or forethought,

beads of sweat at her temple - a labor of affection.

The assumption that love can be measured in the fullness

and emptiness of a dinner plate; the privilege of bestowing your deepest love

without ever having to utter the word.

The notion that children, despite having two tongues,

will never find the perfect three word I am ____ response to the question 

what are you?

The hope that a poem will suffice.