Su Cho
Tangerine Trees & Little Bags of Sugar
My mother speaks of how she was born
on an island, where a father grew a family of
seven from one single tangerine tree
purchased from a local trader. How he saved
for a plot of land & the tangerines were good―
so good. My mother speaks of how a mother
would travel back to Seoul alone to buy
sugar—heaps of sugar in clumpy bags—bring
it back to package them with ribbons &
rippling clear cello to the people on the island
who didn’t know it was possible to cross the
ocean. How these tangerine trees and bags of
sugar birthed a brick-lined mansion,
chauffeurs, & gift boxe s of echoing Korean
pears to each of her & her sibling’s classrooms.
A whole heavy box for every teacher. As I
frown and complain that these pears even from
Jersey aren’t sweet, she tells me to be thankful
& that if I can’t shave the skin off these pears I
will never get married. Be grateful that I get to
pick this fruit. Grateful that we received a
shipping box full of bruised tangerines that still
grew on the island when they were still alive to
remind us of work. How I used scrunch my
nose at the furry bruised skin & marvel when
peeled, inside was plump fruit, tasting like all
the sugar & sweat carried across the ocean until
everyone was satisfied.
Su Cho currently serves as the Editor-in-Chief of Indiana Review and attends the Indiana University MFA Program.
She received her BA in English, Creative Writing, and Psychology from Emory University. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Word Riot, Sugared Water, and Crab Orchard Review.
Return to September 2016 Edition
My mother speaks of how she was born
on an island, where a father grew a family of
seven from one single tangerine tree
purchased from a local trader. How he saved
for a plot of land & the tangerines were good―
so good. My mother speaks of how a mother
would travel back to Seoul alone to buy
sugar—heaps of sugar in clumpy bags—bring
it back to package them with ribbons &
rippling clear cello to the people on the island
who didn’t know it was possible to cross the
ocean. How these tangerine trees and bags of
sugar birthed a brick-lined mansion,
chauffeurs, & gift boxe s of echoing Korean
pears to each of her & her sibling’s classrooms.
A whole heavy box for every teacher. As I
frown and complain that these pears even from
Jersey aren’t sweet, she tells me to be thankful
& that if I can’t shave the skin off these pears I
will never get married. Be grateful that I get to
pick this fruit. Grateful that we received a
shipping box full of bruised tangerines that still
grew on the island when they were still alive to
remind us of work. How I used scrunch my
nose at the furry bruised skin & marvel when
peeled, inside was plump fruit, tasting like all
the sugar & sweat carried across the ocean until
everyone was satisfied.
Su Cho currently serves as the Editor-in-Chief of Indiana Review and attends the Indiana University MFA Program.
She received her BA in English, Creative Writing, and Psychology from Emory University. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Word Riot, Sugared Water, and Crab Orchard Review.
Return to September 2016 Edition