Creator - Andrew Song Author's Note: As it's AAPI Heritage Month, I found it fitting to write a poem based on my experiences as an Asian American. My mother, like most immigrant mothers, tell their children to make sure every bit of meat on a bone is eaten - even the tough parts, even the parts that most wouldn't eat. Saving every penny when our parents started with nothing then becomes second nature. “Clean the bones.”
Mama said. “But Mama” said I, “The cap is so hard and tough” “Meat is hard to find” Mama said. “So clean the bones.” “But Mama,” said I, “We stopped by the store the other day, And I saw rows and rows of meat Like the cornfields we passed.” “Meat costs money,” Mama said. “So clean the bones.” “But Mama,” said I, “Jeannie Smith at school has money. She doesn’t have to clean the bones So why can’t her family share money with us?” “Money costs time,” Mama said. “So clean the bones.” “But Mama,” said I, “Mr. Smith works just as long as you. And Jeannie doesn’t need to clean the bones. And besides, the meat clings onto bone like you to a dollar.” Mama sighed. “Meat costs money Money costs time Therefore meat is hard to find. Who says the Smiths and the Bais are alike? We Bais came from China and the Smiths, they are...” Mama stopped. "Clean the bones.” Because my Mama picked her fingers to the bone, I learned to pick the bones with my fingers. Even when we ate off china and silk That habit of having meager is a habit that lingers. Being rich and Bai is not the same as rich and Smith because Rich and Bai does not translate to rich and white. Until The value of time depends not where you call home I clean the bones, I clean the bones, I clean the bones, I clean the bones.
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