a love letter to my mom —Rebecca Yang

& a written confession that i can’t say
to your face because we both know
you wouldn’t understand.

instead, since my words are pleated 
by the countries between us 
& the differences marked by pockets
of silence, let me talk about your

hands, the ones that worked as 
a seamstress before i was born. kneading
cloth into dresses, your slender fingers
crafted delicacies into realities.

& selling those treasures into markets,
you scrapped knuckled pennies into
a ticket, hoping your dresses would 
bring you to those who wore them.

instead, you found your words pleated
into bite-sized no thank you, please,
& i’m sorry. sewn in a world renewed 
by my birth, let me talk about your 

hands, the ones that i’ve only seen
scrub dishes, back dipped over kitchen
sink, strands of hair falling between teeth
in a mouth that has forgotten its own hunger.

but you found a daughter who will accept
your offerings. let your hands weave her
hair into braids, deftly cup her cheeks in
one palm, the other to cover your eyes

from her shy, golden-dappled stare.

---

Rebecca Yang is a sophomore at Orange County School of the Arts, where she studies Creative Writing. Her work has been recognized by the Alliance for Young Artists and Writers, the National Federation of State Poetry Societies, and DePaul’s Blue Book: Best American High School Writing. You can find her poems in Elan Literary Magazine.