By: Amy Cheng, AASU 2013-2014 Archivist

is the sound that a hammer hitting a nail makes
as my ancestors build the railroads of the west
is the sound the cash register makes at my parents restaurant
where they sell dog… food (I had a regular that would order pork lo main for her toy poodle… privileged people are weird…)
is the serenade that the boys would sing to me in the schoolyard during recess and lunch
is the sound that my eyes make
as these slants open and shut
is the adjective that I have internalized
it is the word that haunts me wherever I go
the one word that has been chosen to describe me…
who I am
what I am
where I’m from.
It was not chosen by me, but for me
and if you think that your wisecracks are funny
is the sound of my heart breaking.
is the sound of my tears hitting the ground.
I don’t want you to pity me
I want you to change