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my brother uses wooden sticks as if
he had been born with those alike thin bones
in tight between his fingertips. i riff
through books and cannot grasp a thing but stones.

my fingers - thick and clumsy - move across
unclear labels in black chinese letters,
his hands are swift as they unveil a clause
i ought have seen before, 'tea, two liters'.

sushi is brought to school, i hide my lunch
because i feel awkward. i love the sound
of japanese, i cannot speak a bunch,
i cringe when syllables have funny sound.

sister brings pickled plums to lunch, i am
a foreigner that has wrong colored skin.