Unwrap four bundles of dry vermicelli
Let their white locks dissolve into hot water
until silvery and translucent
the faint brushing of your mother’s fingers
opening a package of dehydrated shiitake
mushrooms murmuring they should blossom back to life
Grab a bag of bean sprouts, free them into a pool of water
where their dead green skins float to the surface
and their white mermaid tails fan submarine
Peel a passel of carrots, wash them and thinly shred them
Pound one clove of garlic, soft and watery, and dice them into
the footsteps of your father going away or he might start to tear up
Place two pounds of ground pork in a big bowl
Pinch in salt and pepper, sprinkle the garlic
Layer the carrot confetti, the slippery vermicelli,
And the chewy shiitake bits and the bean sprout tails
Break one egg
Mix everything
Set the pile of papery rice in the middle of the table
along steaming ponds glistening with the giggles
of your siblings and even their children
as they dip the wraps and roll tiny fingers, chubby fingers,
the touch of past kab yaub feasts
to be frozen until your solo dining hungers for a taste
of family
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