When I claimed that you accepted me, as words  

Fail me again and again, because broken English was half of my language  

while accent-less Mandarin from media  

made up the other half, each tearing me apart until the marionette explodes,  

both now enjoying my absence.  

 

I laughed when words spoke without me and  

pretended that I could wrap words correctly around my tongue,  

that the labels I often muttered and sometimes roared didn’t define me,  

and that Uncle Sam wasn’t waiting to decrease  

my value with his looming star-spangled scale.  

​

I laughed as light sharded under my yellow—too yellow, too dark—skin  

in the one nation united under God,  

for pride is the winner’s symbol, but the losers’ creation.

 I dedicated my scars to the centuries-long story 

of your battles, your ambitions veiling over the indigo sky, your tales of suns unsung.  

​

I laughed because my wishes dried out. And at that moment,  

your overworked body withered. I laughed because predators could lose 

even if they won 99 times, yet always come back stronger, ready to

gamble;  I laughed because fates turned by the snap of your white fingers,

never stained  despite the blood echoing throughout time.  

​

I laughed when broken English became  

perfect New York accents through rehearsals,  

melting into the pot.  

Mama could even mimic a white woman for one second;  

and I laughed because that made a difference.  

​

I laughed because I eavesdropped  

on the secrets your wrinkled flag sold to the wind. Others laughed  

as the stone wall fell, marking their era—as if they didn’t already  

dominate every decade. I laughed as I clenched onto Mama’s hand, feeling the

wrinkles that  deepened with time because that was all I could do. 

​

I laughed when I tripped  

over the iron railings, ambushed by your soldiers. I was a good

daughter  to many, but never to you. Every day, I paint myself  

blue and red with white stars— 

for a fading stamp and an Alien Registration number scorched onto my back.

 

I laughed when my festered wound boiled  

because your mouth is a river I could never  

tread through.