I thought I would not belong. As used to change as I was. The third

country I’ve tasted, an invitation to reject stillness. Roots or lack thereof.

Surgery on a tree, a big oak tree. Curled dark roots, willing and tired,

refusing to cling to the still-wet dirt. Transplanted between bodies of land,

across an ocean, onto other winds. It was ham, potatoes, and sangria.

Cigarette smoke seizing a fistful of your jacket, lingering at every street

corner, forcing you to inhale it. Cold, numb hands, am I anemic? hands,

pressing my fingers on my own arms in pursuit of warmth. On someone

else’s arms, when possible. I met you in late October, a week after my

birthday. I’m so sorry I’m late, the metro was packed. An awkward laugh

from us both. My heart was still beating fast from the walk from the

station as I sat across from you at that coffee shop. My stool wobbled. It’s

okay, don’t worry. A cup of chai, steam dancing above the foam.

Cardamom, cinnamon, cloves. Tickling my nose, sweetly. Studies, music,

food, fill in the blank after my questions, tell me more, and what did your

childhood smell like? Your name of porcelain that used to warm my lips,

now placed on a cupboard, collecting dust. I stare at it every time I make

coffee, but I haven’t picked up that mug again. That porcelain, with cracks

I’d never noticed, waiting to be broken by accident so it could rest. Eyes

of black coffee, seemingly guileless, observing me, unnerving. What’s

your biggest fear? It took me until March to be with you back then. I told

you I didn’t want to love someone that I’d leave in three months. You left

a part of yourself in my camera roll, silently begging to be erased. The

love will be temporary, and so will the pain. I miss the potential fabricated

in the fogged fancy of my crystal mind. I’m sorry for loving a version of

you that wasn’t true.

Edited by Leyna Hoang

Artist Statement: Every time I heard about people traveling, and how it changed their lives, I always rolled my eyes and found it cheesy. Until I did it. Studying abroad for a year changed me, not only because of the change of setting, but because of everything that came with it. The flavors, the smells, the things you’ve never seen before, and the people you probably will never see again. It marks you, and so much so that one of those people drove me to write this poem. It’s about fear, first love, and disappointment. I hope you like it.