Memoirs of a TCK, Part Two.

A continuation of my biographical poems from growing up as a third culture kid.

11. The Black Glove

The pair was given to us,

Made of silk with ruffles on the end.

The pointy fingers scared me.

One was lost.

I played with my barbies beside my bed.

There it was,

The black glove waving at me from the other side.

I screamed for mommy.

There she was, with the glove on,

Telling me that it was her, and not the witch’s fingers.

An apology, a snuggle, and resentment toward silk gloves.

12. Cover Your Ears, Princesses

In the world’s created by Abbi and I, there was deep history.

A monarchy of glory, with every ruler named.

The princesses were stuffed animals.

Our rule of modesty,

Cover your ears.

So, there they stood,

Each with their ears covered in delicate fabrics.

One decided not to cover her ears,

What a tragic ending she had,

That only Juliet can compare to.

13. Books in the Box From America

There were no books in English.

I had no interest in reading,

But when those boxes came,

it was as if angels had blessed us.

Books in English to educate us,

All read by my sister multiple times.

I simply admired,

And saw my family’s thankfulness for the provision.

The food for knowledge.

America sent us books, and rare foods.

A bit of home?

Not for me.

14. Death, the Dancer

The ballet was that of Moses.

The story was clear to me,

More than the words that I had heard.

The death of the firstborn came,

There she stood, dressed in black.

The flowing fabric was beautiful and ghostly.

To me, death was really there, on stage.

It was done, and to show me the magic of theater,

My mother had me meet

Death, the dancer.

She was nice, like a Disney princess.

It wasn’t real, but I gained


15. Spidertown

My bed was made into a house

For our duck stuffed animals.

They were people to us,

And their city was different.


Houses on water connected by bridges.

To a bird, it would seem like a spider had established

Residence on the water.

The wonder was real, and the community was strong.

The game continued until it was time for dinner.

“What are we eating?”


Abbi and I looked at each other with disgust.

But, like spidertown, fish was food.

So, we ate and left spidertown to play in the water.

They are still there somewhere,

Like every created world,

floating on the water.


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