grandparents

Writing

Vitiligo: Flowers of Hope

By Diana Ha

Criss, cross, criss, cross. 
My grandmother and I sit next to each 
other with foundation in one 
hand, a brush in the other. 
We blend. 
Grandma’s age spots lighten as 
my white spots darken, unfolding 
the magic of disappearance.


Oasis

By Samantha Liu

Today I pulled

my grandmother’s body

from the mouth of the river,

unpeeled milkflowers and seawater

from her hair, and knelt over her

the way we bend over our own reflections:

to drink.

Nainai, ni ren shi wo me?*


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