Finding her hide we trailed
fingers down then against
grains of fur thrusting shoulders into its waxy skin.
This is how she found us
the past draped about us like a cloak
hands separating peach halves from a core.
Her form in the sound
a pandan leaf peeking through milk. The only seals in Vietnam:
American men with green faces.
Copyright © 2023 by Diana Khoi Nguyen. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on May 17, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.
“In graduate school, I wrote a version of this poem which served as a grounding myth for the familial, psychological, and emotional content in my work. Eventually, I realized that, while I had learned much about ‘craft,’ my poems were stripped of details from the communities to which I belong; instead my poems reflected the predominately white institutions that educated me. Years later, I stumbled across the old version and removed that which does not speak with verisimilitude to my lived experience. I no longer ‘translate’ away ethnic details when I write, but try to capture these elements with irreplaceable precision.”
—Diana Khoi Nguyen