On the Loss of Her History, or An Ode to White Mythmaking

On the Loss of Her History, or An Ode to White Mythmaking

Written by friend and poet, Tel McGaha

What I meant to say over Christmas supper when I said
whites should not save little Asian babies, is this:

Somewhere in the city a woman felt a pang of pain
and knew her daughter was giving birth while
withdrawing funds from Shinhan Bank so she might
vacation with her children in Daegu, if she were not dead
from the invented stones you layered in her pockets before
leaping from the Busan Bridge, all for honor
so she might come speechless to us
(엄마 and 간식 stolen from her mouth),
across the sea in the arms of a nanny on Northwest,
or porcelain Moses-like floating into Memphis
in a straw-filled crate, or better yet:
Carried upon the back of an Asian dragon,
but of the white variety like the one I hated
in The NeverEnding Story of my own childhood.