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  • my grandmother
    cooks in the kitchen
    her hands gold
    with tumeric
    and the shallots
    are sizzling
    the chop-chop
    of the onions
    the tangy sourness
    of fish sauce
    the soapy scent
    of cilantro
    and here I am
    a boy listening
    to her stories
    entranced by folklore
    & fairy tales
    & family sagas
    i never wanted
    the stories to end
    ...but everything
    ends my grandmother
    always reminded me
    as she washed
    the dishes--
    for there to be
    a beginning
    there must
    be an ending
    and so don't be
    sad she said
    another story
    a new beginning. . .

    I have a shoebox of photographs
    of my grandmother
    but there is no recording
    the lilt of her voice
    how she mumbled songs
    the pitch of her anger
    her glittery gravelly laughter
    each day it gets harder
    to conjure her sound
    as she calls me home
    for dinner– it has faded
    already--soon these
    mute photographs
    will only return my stare
    as I strain to hear
    the echo of an echo

    Dear Cowbird Friends:

    This will be my last posting. I have decided to focus on other creative projects. But before I go, I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read my stories. I also want to thank everyone whose stories I have read.

    Though most of you are far in geography and have never met me, there is an intimacy of words between us that makes me consider you, truly: a friend.

    Cảm ơn bạn!


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