Are You Nobody Too?

I’m NobodyI’m nobody! Who are you?Ms. Franklin wrote      on the whiteboardUm, you’re Ms. Franklin      the class laughedAnd you already know who we are!That was back      in seventh gradeat the Meadowlake School      where Ms. Franklinsmiled and swung      her long red hair      back overher shoulder      before reading us      this poemabout a frog in a bog      she said was aboutbeing humble      not seeking attentionShe also made      some connectionto social media      how everyone wantsto be liked or seen      all the time      but howthat’s not      the meaning of life      how true happinesscomes from inside      and from relationships I UnderstoodWhat Ms. Franklin      meant at the timebut it really      made sense to me      once I startedgoing to I.S. 23      where I want      to be seenbut also wish      I were a little bit     invisiblelike a lunar eclipse      fully presentbut also masked      by shadow It Should Have Been EasyTo respond      to Ms. Franklin’s writing promptabout      What it means to be person      but it wasn’tI don’t remember      what I wrote      or if I even wroteanything at all      I do remember      a strong feeling Rising inside of me      like my heartwas full      but not      in a joyful wayI couldn’t think      of what to saymy head felt heavy      as if filled with leadmy hands got sweaty      just holding my penMy palms smelled      metallic like they didwhen I was little      after swinging      on the monkey barsin Washington Square Park      back when lifefelt less complex      just one hand      after the otherafter the next      the other one      after that FactOne interesting fact      about me      is thatI learned to read      when I was threenot because      I am a genius      but becauseI was afraid      of animals      the stuffed kindwith cold button eyes      that stared at meas I lay      in my playpen or crib Their plush fur      and floppy earsdidn’t comfort me      the way my parents didso Mom and Dad      put books      in my bed insteadand I clung to them      the way other kidscuddle teddy bears      bunnies and giraffes Books Each night      I’d fall asleepwith a book      tucked under my cheekYum Yum Dim Sum      or some board bookabout Lunar New Year      or how to do kung fuanything Chinese      because even thenmy parents      were trying      to show mehow to be      more how I looked Words My parents      still laughabout the first time      they saw meturning pages      with my chubby thumbssounding out      words like      Cat      Mat      Sat      Hatin books      by Dr. SeussI was only three      but they could seeI was teaching myself      how to read Baby Like Me It blew my mind!      Mom always saysIt blew everyone’s mind!      Dad alwayschimes in      it’s true      not many peopleknow a child      who learned      to readat the age of three      especially      an adopted babylike me      who spent      her first monthshearing Chinese      in an orphanage      in Beijing Someplace Far AwayEven today      we three laugh      about the timemy parents      first saw me      swaddledin a red silk quilt      pumping my plump legslike I was biking      to the moon      or someplacefar away      as New York      the city whereI have lived      ever since      Mom and Dadbrought me home      from China MooncakeThat was back when      I still had      rosy cheeksround as the mooncake      I find waiting for meon a plate      a Post-it stuck      to its rim:     See you at 8!      xo MomOn days      when she has      a late meetingmy mom      always leaves me      something sweetfrom the deli      on the corner      or from her favoritebakery in Chinatown      Hop Wen      close tothe Community College of Lower Manhattanwhere she teaches      American literature KeeperFlicking Mom’s note      into the trashI rip open      a fresh package of Oreoskick my Dr. Martens off      toward the cornerof the kitchen      and call for Keeper It’s a long minute      before I hearKeeper’s tags jingle      faint likea distant wind chime      as he gruntsto get up      from his bed      by the bathroomhis brittle claws      clicking acrossthe wide planks      of our soft wood floorHere, KeepsI whistle      shoving a cookie      too fastinto my face      I am starving!      I thinkthen wince      as the rough Oreo edgescrapes the roof      of my mouthHere, Keeps      I repeat      worrying the scuffwith my tongue      while he waddles overtail ticking      slow as a metronome      his whole bodywinding down      like a worn-out clock Cookie Keeper snuffles down      the cookie I hold outin a single gulp      his watery brown eyeswiden with surprise      from the suddenrush of sugar      before he shuffles overto his other bed      beneath the kitchen table Old as he is Keeper      is still      the only dog we knowable to eat cocoa      and not die      our whole familyjokes it’s the Oreos      that are keeping him alivebut we don’t laugh      as hard      about that oneas we used to      careful now      about not jinxing himSpent by the effort      Keeper closes his eyesand sighs      fluttering the cloth      above his headwith a puff of warm breat     h as his ears twitchtheir way      into the drift      of a dream Keeper and Me Keeper and me      share a lot of thingslike pillows      and cookies      and whenno one’s looking      dinner      but thathappens      less and less frequentlythese days      Keeper mostly sleepsand me      I am usually busy      dealingwith life      at my new school Keeper and Me Keeper and me      share a lot of thingslike how      we got our names      mine camefrom Emily Bronte      my mom’s favorite authorand Keeper was named      for Emily Bronte’s dogA loyal mastiff      said to be      stout and strongas a wild boar      he was probably      still no matchfor the puppy version of Keeps      who even as a beagleacted bigger than he was      always erupting with joylike a wind-up toy      you can’t turn off Recently Keep’s been acting      a lot like mea little more quiet      than usuala little more lost      in thoughtabout simple things      like snacks and relaxing      or complicated stuff like life and death      or making friends which I never really      had to think about until nowA Dog’s Life The expression      a dog’s life     is supposed to mean boring      and monotonous      but that could also be      a kid’s life      especially mine Back during      the early part      of the pandemic when middle school was      school-in-the-middle-of-my-room where I sat      six hours a day      on my bed as if marooned      on an island      in a sea of worksheets My dad always      not knocking      and opening my door to ask      how I was doing      me always      hissing Fine waving him away      out of frame      so my classmates wouldn’t see him      checking up on me      like a freak Freakish It was freakish      when the pandemic hit Dad lost his job      almost overnight      at The Village Herald where he’d worked      since before I was born he said he’d been      half expecting it      for as long as he could remember      but like Keeper The Herald always      just seemed to hold on It was weird      to suddenly have my dad      hanging around looking like      he didn’t know      what to do      with himself no longer needed      to rush to the scene      of a speech or a crash      or a crime      he had a lot of time      on his hands It’s hard even now      to understand      how everything felt so fast      but also painfully slow      for months we didn’t always know      what day it was for months      it didn’t always      seem to matter I See Now I can see now      that Dad was kind      of depressed the way      he became obsessed      with taking daily portraits of me and Mom      like if he didn’t record all the small changes in us      he would fail to see      some big shift      before it came How each night      he’d stand      on our fire escape snapping dozens      of pointless photos of the moon      as it waxed and waned Looks pretty much the same     I’d say No way    Dad would reply      Look again She’s completely different today What He Sees Capturing what he sees      Mom explained to me is how your dad      understands the world    I get that but for a while      I found it      extremely annoying actually      intrusive is the word      I would use But since      I didn’t refuse      his daily portraits there’s lots      of shots of me      making a face or rolling my eyes      which always      made Dad flash a smile      which is partly why      I let him Fate of the Earth With the fate      of the Earth      so uncertain the sight of my dad’s      passionate expression as he’s holding his camera      and the light in his face      when he’s taking a photo make the world      feel like a safer place It’s no wonder      I’ve kept      a picture of him like that      in my mind      sometimes I find you don’t need      a camera      to remember the important things      you’ve seen