Vietnamese
Because I can’t read the Wind, he exiles me
with his tones. In the dark, he whispers,
dấu huyền to haunt my sleep. He brandishes dấu sắc
to keep my head bowed, his pointed dấu hỏis,
his sharpened dấu ngãs strike me dumb.
He deadbolts my door, dấu nặng.
I remember the old children’s song—
hollow vowels, sharp consonants
my mom used to sing to me.
When I had trouble sleeping,
“Ngày nào năm xưa
em còn bé tí teo,”
her voice cradling me in the folds
of a late-night cup of warm milk.
Thi Nguyen is a poet, California native, born from Vietnamese refugees in San Jose, currently living in Los Angeles. She received her MFA in creative writing with a focus on poetry from the University of New Orleans (UNO). Her poems have been recognized with Honorable Mention for the Vassar Miller Poetry Prize and the Academy of American Poets Award in 2024. Her interview with Marilyn Chin, regarding her latest book, Sage, can be read on Poetry Society of America. Thi loves coffee and takes it with a splash of oat milk.