The day I found grandma in
my mother’s forehead and closed eyes I
saw red & gold foliage. In the stories
she used to tell me a bird saves a mountain.
I don’t remember much of my childhood only
the smell of freshly escaped crabs tucked
away in the cracks of sofas and atlas holding
the weight of the sky. My mother and I are both born
on the slippery ends of words but I have never
tasted hers and she mine. My words are too
complicated for her broken English and hers
crackled in the flames of her past. Sometimes I am
ashamed that the English language slips
off my tongue without effort and every time she
reads my words they drench her in red & gold.
Emma Wang is a 17-year-old writer born in Xi’an, China but currently attends Indian Springs School in Alabama. Her work has previously appeared or is forthcoming in Cosmonauts Avenue, The Mire, K’in Magazine, Teen Ink Magazine, and has been recognized by the Scholastic Arts and Writing awards. On days when she remembers it, she likes to write about random things in her blog www.lifes-lemons.com. She participates in a variety of things, including drinking coffee, laughing at horror movies with her friends, and napping.