in ma's fix-it drawer:

in ma's fix-it drawer: 

little buttons

like irises 

hidden beneath

furrowed lids. 

needles of every size

to stitch us through

thick and thin; 

stopping our guts 

from spilling, 

red and steaming 

onto the kitchen floor. 

noodles of thread

to mend the tablecloth--

stained with fish sauce, 

torn by rough fingers.

rubber bands 

and scotch tape rolls, 

green twist ties 

like little weeds uprooted--

to bring us together, 

a clumsy diorama

we hold dear. 

ma's fix-it drawer 

knits patchwork clothes

and red-rimmed eyes,

her deft fingers 

knotting around us. 

today she is happy 

and the steam 

from the crockpot

kisses our faces,

so we hold our smiles. 

but between the 

grumbling stomachs, 

and jaws glued tight

with rice cake, 

words slip through

the gaps of our teeth.