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Slur: Reflections on Being “Other”

Slur: Reflections on Being “Other”

As the daughter of an Asian father and a German–American mother, I can’t pretend to understand what it’s like to be a black adult in the U.S. today, to live with the possibility of being presumed guilty until proven innocent, or to instruct my teenage sons in how to...

Four Weeks In: Redux

I wrote this poem five years ago and reworked it recently. Now, of course, we all know that four weeks is nothing. It’s not even half the time we’ve been social distancing. So take this poem with a grain of salt. I didn’t know any better. Four weeks inIf only I had...

Grammar Lesson

She sits at the kitchen tabledutifully diagramming sentences inscrutable indirect objects and those pesky prepositions(or are they adverbs?) But I am diagrammingthe way the light glints in her hairas she carefully shapes cursive,brow furrowedbut eyes darting to...

Over Dinner

The romantic comedy always ends when the couple finally gets together. But anyone who’s been married for even a month knows those fledgling days aren’t a true harbinger of what’s to come. When we were first married, the stark contrast between the romantic days of...

Limericks for TJ

For Tennyson, who says it isn’t a real poem unless it rhymes. There was once a 9-year-old kidWhose stomach decided to ridItself of its contentsUnder the pretenseOf denying itself, so it did. There once was a boy fair and jollyWho snuck a lick of his friend’s lollyBut...