Me, age nine, Taichung. I’m sitting at the dining table, slumped with both legs curled up on the chair in front of my chest, face visibly upset. Before me, a few loose greasy-looking lotus leaves. Zongzi, or sticky rice dumplings. Behind me, kitchen, visibly small and dark, lights off. On the counter, a beat-up pot and rice cooker, the kind that keeps the rice warm for hours. Right of it, a brown wooden cabinet full of Ba’s pottery teapots, a glare on the glass. Left of it, a brown wooden pantry shelf, bottles of soy sauce and rice wine in the middle. Beside me, two chairs with tall, brown, ornamented wooden backs. Opposite me, out of frame, Ma wants me to finish the zongzi. I refuse. She forbids me from leaving the table because little children in Africa are starving and I’m spoiled. I cry. She says go on, I’ll wait. I wail. She grabs the camera. She shoots.
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Tiffany Hsieh was born in Taiwan. She lived in Taichung before immigrating to Canada at the age of fourteen with her parents. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Salamander, The Shanghai Literary Review, Atticus Review, Poet Lore, Sonora Review, Apple Valley Review, and other publications. She lives in southern Ontario with her husband and dog.