thoughts as an Asian woman in America eating 辛 instant noodles
thoughts as an Asian woman in America eating 辛 instant noodles
a poem about instant noodles and fetishization.
I: America
please take the liberty of a few deep breaths
in
辛
out
American corporations spread factory vegetables over noodle soup
unravel plastic wrap over Chinese characters
did you know that 辛 soup only breaks when water’s surface tension is exceeded
0.072575 joules per square meter at 20 degrees Celsius
Celsius not Fahrenheit
in this country i am broken and suction packaged
into a styrofoam cup
II: race
i think i know why they call it the Imperial System
spirit colors are red, white, blue
and yellow peril
broke college students can taste diaspora when they pick up 辛 from the aisle shelf
just like how i bleed red when shoved in the microwave
i don’t think twice, just swallow
in the dictionary Shin (that’s the American spelling)
can mean toil, or it can mean spicy
placed on the shelf like i’m 辛 noodles
placed on the shelf like i’m a token
III: fetish
i was in New York when a girl told me i was one of Those Asian Girls at school guys set out to hook up with
serving size is 75 grams of Fetish
i can be your menu item
i can be your final candidate from the shelf
if i can throw this spice and toil in your face
with soup dripping down your face, i hope you’ll understand
- katherine wu
november 2021