By MADISON SUH
in lieu of language,
i stuff my mouth.
i do not know how to say the words for all the banchan.
i only know how to eat,
how to be hungry, how to ask for more.
to grandma,
love is something you can fill up on, something you can store
warmth is gyeranjjim.
miyeok guk is an antidote
kimchi is part and bossam is parcel
this is how
to fold mandu, how to wrap a meal,
how to feed your granddaughter, how to keep your kids
alive.
at her table
we pass meaning through mouths.
i bite my words. i chew my tongue.
i am still learning
how to regurgitate, how to chew with my mouth open,
still figuring out
how to stop biting my tongue, how to
swallow love whole.
halmoni,
i would like you to know that the food that you gave me lasted me two days
instead of one.
할머니,
i would like you to know that i am full.
Writer | Madison Suh ’26 | msuh26@fmartinez18amherst-edu
Editor | Venumi Gamage ’26 | vthotagodagamage26@amherst.edu