Cold Chinese Food
A poem on grief, realization, and the pain of a forgotten childhood.
everyone grimaces when i say
to them that i like to eat my
Chinese cold.
how could you do it? they ask,
their faces in horror. i say,
it is inheritance.
my mother taught me to do
it. a quick treat if you can’t
leave the couch
for your grief and rage. it
took a lifetime of sad faces,
blank stares for
me to realize that they aren’t
horrified by the icy food.
they’re saddened
by the little girl who could
not rely on her mother
for a hot meal.
© e.b. johnson 2023
About the Creator
E.B. Johnson
E.B. Johnson is a writer, coach, and podcaster who likes to explore the line between humanity and chaos.
Keep reading
More stories from E.B. Johnson and writers in Poets and other communities.
My To Be Read List
I have been taking some time away from writing. I haven't forgotten about Vocal, the truth is I just have been too busy pursuing other things to write online and honestly, my little family and I just had a really hard month between the flu and a weird eye infection/cold circulating our house. I'm currently sipping some warm peppermint tea because my throat is sore.
By Chloe Rose Violet 🌹4 days ago in BookClub
Comments (1)
This is powerful, and I quite love it! Thank you for sharing :)