it replies after I select the department Asian Studies in a dropdown tab, enter the experience Filipino into the university course search engine. I make mediocre waves of it,
I know that single grains of rice that settle far from their plated centre mass get forgotten about, left unspooned, uncelebrated, drowned by the end water of dishwashing so
I must tend to my wanting elsewhere. Sift through childhood archives, they hold the history of my body with hands that the engine does not have.
Error less, how Grandma gathers each collection of ground pork, whipped egg, minced celery, carrot, onion
No fading in her hands when sunlight empties alongside the bowl of meat mixture, millions of pieces find their place atop
Sections of lumpia wrapping, their sand complexions eventually knowing to envelop themselves around the naked meat, I’ve
Found what I’m looking for in the memory of a woman who’s known what home looks like for three generations.
Jeremy Chu is a Filipino-Chinese poet born and raised on the unceded Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh territories known as Vancouver, B.C., who now lives in a place facing an opposite ocean. His writing appears in The Fourth River, Ricepaper, CV2, and more.
