works by william pham, 2005-present

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An Anatomical Study of a Young Vietnamese Man

Let me proceed to delineate the anatomy of my body:
it is composed of skin and bone like Vietnamese crepes,
pale yellow surfaces covered sparsely in curves, bumps, and markings
inherited from my father and mother like maps where
Saigon still exists instead of Ho Chi Minh City.

Was this what the girl in the picture looked like,
naked and wrapped in napalm:
skin like rice flour,
blood like coconut milk,
bones like bean sprouts?

They grafted new skin onto her burned and scarred body,
their hands like a mother's hands folding bánh xèo
over and onto itself while it still crackles in the pan,
like the skins and bones of tens of thousands of
multitudes and millions of soldiers, men and
mothers, sisters, daughters, and wives:
arms, hands, legs and shoulder blades;

we carry the burden of bánh xèo on our backs,
we tear the remembering into pieces that
we wrap with lettuce and dip into
porcelain dishes filled with
lemon juice, fish sauce, sugar and water,
then we chew,
swallow,
and forget.

copyright (c) 2006 by william pham