Free Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai Page A

the port .
I will not risk
fleeing with my children
on a rickety boat.
    Would a navy ship
    meet your approval?
As if the navy
would abandon its country?
    There won’t be a South Vietnam
    left to abandon.
You really believe
we can leave?
    When the time comes,
    this house
    is our bridge
    to the sea.
    April 16

Should We?
    Mother calls a family meeting.
    Ông Xuân has sold
    leaves of gold
    to buy twelve airplane tickets.
    Bà Nam has a van
    ready to load
    twenty-five relatives
    toward the coast.
    Mother asks us,
    Should we leave our home?
    Brother Quang says,
    How can we scramble away
    like rats,
    without honor, without dignity,
    when everyone must help
    rebuild the country?
    Brother Khôi says,
    What if Father comes home
    and finds his family gone?
    Brother Vsays,
    Yes, we must go.
    Everyone knows he dreams
    of touching the same ground
    where Bruce Lee walked.
    Mother twists her brows.
    I’ve lived in the North.
    At first, not much will happen,
    then suddenly Quang
    will be asked to leave college.
    Hà will come home
    chanting the slogans
    of H Chí Minh,
    and Khôi will be rewarded
    for reporting to his teacher
    everything we say in the house.
    Her brows twist
    so much
    we hush.
    April 17

Sssshhhhhhh
    Brother Khôi shakes me
    before dawn.
    I follow him
    to the back garden.
    In his palm chirps
    a downy yellow fuzz,
    just hatched.
    He presses his palm
    against my squeal.
    No matter what Mother decides,
    we are not to leave .
    I must protect my chick
    and you your papayas.
    He holds out his pinky
    and stares
    stares
    stares
    until I extend mine
    and we hook.
    April 18

Quiet Decision
    Dinnertime
    I help Mother
    peel sweet potatoes
    to stretch the rice.
    I start to chop off
    a potato’s end
    as wide as
    a thumbnail,
    then decide
    to slice off
    only a sliver.
    I am proud
    of my ability
    to save
    until I see
    tears
    in Mother’s
    deep eyes.
    You deserve to grow up
    where you don’t worry about
    saving half a bite
    of sweet potato.
    April 19

Early Monsoon
    We pretend
    the monsoon
    has come early.
    In the distance
    bombs
    explode like thunder,
    slashes
    lighten the sky,
    gunfire
    falls like rain.
    Distant
    yet within ears,
    within eyes.
    Not that far away
    after all.
    April 20

The President Resigns
    On TV President Thiu
    looks sad and yellow;
    what has happened to his tan?
    His eyes brim with tears;
    this time they look real.
    I can no longer be your president
    but I will never leave my people
    or our country.
    Mother lifts one brow,
    what she does
    when she thinks
    I’m lying.
    April 21

Watch Over Us
    Uncle Sn returns
    and tells us
    to be ready to leave
    any day.
    Don’t tell anyone,
    or all of Saigon
    will storm the port.
    Only navy families
    can board the ships.
    Uncle Sn and Father
    graduated in the same navy class.
    It was mere luck
    that Uncle Sn
    didn’t go on the mission
    where Father was captured.
    Mother pulls me close
    and pats my head.
    Father watches over us
    even if he’s not here.
    Mother tells me
    she and Father have a pact.
    If war should separate them,
    they know to find each other
    through Father’s ancestral home
    in the North.
    April 24

Crisscrossed Packs
    Pedal, pedal
    Mother’s feet
    push the sewing machine.
    The faster she pedals
    the faster stitches appear
    on heavy brown cloth.
    Two rectangles
    make a pack.
    A long strip
    makes a handle
    to be strapped across
    the wearer’s chest.
    Hours later
    the stitches appear
    in slow motion,
    the needle a worm
    laying tiny eggs
    that sink into brown cloth.
    The tired worm
    reproduces much more slowly
    at the end of the day
    than at the beginning
    when Mother started
    the first of five bags.
    Brother Khôi says too loudly,
    Make only three.
    Mother goes
    to a high shelf,
    bringing back Father’s portrait.
    Come with us
    or we’ll all stay.
    Think, my son;
    your action will determine
    our future.
    Mother knows this son
    cannot stand to hurt
    anyone,
    anything.
    Look at Father.
    Come with us
    so Father
    will be proud
    you obeyed your mother
    while he’s