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A Motherly Love
August 22, 2023
like kitchen smoke with a hint of spices
this was what made her. Cheeks that tasted
like 包子(bao), when i’d kiss them to greet her
she let me fall into her embrace
one that tasted of the fiery breath of 麻婆 tofu
a lingering aftertaste of star anise;
dancing against my tongue
her hands burning into my back.
she embraces me, fingertips ablaze.
my skin, I feel it move through my veins
a pain so familiar, I almost miss it.
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My mom is someone whose generational divide causes a few arguments between us, however, not once in my life have I doubted her love for me and my love for her.