A Sijo for My Son

Two Postpartum Poems for my Quarter-Korean Son

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A Sijo (시조 ) for My Son

You ask why my milk tastes sweet, like persimmon, ripe plum syrup–
of rice cakes steamed with flowers, petals tossed in layers of honey.
Our blood sings in harmony with Lobster rolls and hot dogs.

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Kimchi Milk*

One day, my son might ask me what it means to be a quarter Korean.
And I will tell him the quarter means nothing.

Once, I drank the fermented cabbage
buried deep in soil
marinated in salt,
garlic, and sugar;
in something of the sea, in scallions and apples,
in gochu garu.
Now, it fills my breasts with drink for him.

I will tell this to him so he understands:
내 아들아, 너는 온전하다
as if my mother could give me any less than herself,
as if I could give any less to him.

*The original title was Undiluted Kimchi Milk, but I like it without the “undiluted” better. I’m not great with titles. Kimchi Milk is now the working title of my novel. We’ll see if it sticks.

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A note:

I wrote these two poems when I was some months postpartum with my one and only son, Teddy. He’s three now, but every so often I read these poems and I’m glad for having recorded these feelings. Someday, I’ll show them to him and maybe he’ll understand a little what I was trying to say.

Riksha Magazine published them both. I wanted to share them here you because, well…I like them. And I’m no poet and I’ll never pretend to be, but I do like these two. Because, to be honest, I never really thought about what it meant to be Korean American, or half-Korean American until I had my son.

Anyway, maybe more on that later. But for now, my son is making playdough birthday cake and I’m the only person in the world he wants to play with right now. He really is the best kid.

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