It was hard sometimes just to close my eyes.Uncle Gary took me to the rooftop to seethe Bay Bridge.The view of the police station crushingmy childhoodwith the gray weight of winter,I asked Dad if we could move backto 1522 Mason Street. Uncle Gary took me to the rooftop to seethe Bay Bridge.Hazy jazz coming throughthe communal bathroom windowsin the evening,I asked Dad if we could move backto 1522 Mason Streetwhere Grandpa read the Chinese Timesand seldom spoke. Hazy horns came throughthe communal bathroom windowsin the evenings.At 1522 Mason, Grandma made egg-yolksponge cakeswe washed down with tea,and Grandpa read the Chinese Timesand seldom spoke.My mother was always turning upsilently behind me. Grandma brought us egg-yolk sponge cakeswe washed down with tea,while the viewof the police station next door crushedmy childhoodwith the gray weight of winter.My mother was always turning upsilently behind me.It’s hard sometimes just to close my eyes.
Marin Poetry Center Anthology.
© Priscilla Lee. All rights reserved.