ERICA HOM

MIGRANT WORKER LOVE LETTER

Bronx, New York City, 2005: A Chinese-food delivery man from Fujian became trapped in an apartment building elevator. He banged on the door and screamed, but he didn’t speak English. All he could say was “No good! No good!” Even after 81 hours, the security guards insisted they did not hear him.

Lǎo pó 老婆,

i miss you.        have the bellflowers blossomed yet?       magnolia blooms                        late again
i carved your name      between the buttons      deaf and dead               i slept beside you again
America has a saying       life has ups       and downs.       i imagine the dark ocean waves
that carried me              to where I wrote my first letter    from the other side                         of a distant shore
from the uprooted edge of a floating mattress           heavy with seawater no good.

twenty five days          at sea head filled with dreams golden mountains
trees glinting with gemstones i found only water        dark
deep water      water migrating crashing        against the hull of the weary boat
seawater swallowed   each word       each letter       always wanting            more
until all i had left in my pocket was a memory of us   under the sun
my thumb caressing      the freckle just below     your eye

i wasn’t afraid of the dark        until I slept inside a coffin       with no one to hear
the bell’s lonely toll i burned              my poetry to keep  my hands warm   no
good
if i get out            i’ll show you  the other side of me
a body that’s never been           robbed at knifepoint   for a twenty dollar tip

a saying           it’s funny                      how much of our lives we spend trapped in boxes
houses kitchens cubicles       subways city grids coffins mousetraps
borders etched in mud and sand        where anything           can sound like a psalm
any word         by any tongue             chimes like a prayer
when my feet reach the sand i will collect my bones send them back to you
in a box padded by my deferred dreams

can any god hear me? did god draw these borders?
no good                        no good                        no good                                    no good

what else can I tell you?                     i learned to worship the moon            the one who pulls
the strings of the tide     the movement
of thousands of starving eyes  guided by distant starlight

my ear resting  on cold metal
i hear your heartbeat   the sound of my knock at the door
coming home.

Erica Hom is an emerging poet, artist and educator living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Her poetry has been featured by Honey Literary, Voices from the Attic, Rhodora Magazine, Crow and Cross Keys, 50 Haikus and elsewhere. She is a poetry reader for Sepia Journal and a recipient of the 2022 Oakland Business Improvement District’s Sidewalk Poetry Prize. She is currently working on her debut poetry book, as well as a chapbook inspired by Philippine mythology.