And in the end, what does a life add up to?

Birthday candles, sacred wishes,
surprise thunderstorms, impromptu
dance parties, surreptitious kisses under the
bleachers, skinned knees, scars only you can
identify, the number of times your heart
has been broken, hushed farewells, gifts
you did not know were gifts at the time

It’s uncertain, this calculus, you count
the days, mark the calendar, add and
subtract memories and in the end, what
does a life add up to?

You see, I’m neither mathematician nor
mortician. I like to make lists. I keep
a word bank in my pocket with favorites,
the ones skimming your tongue
like a kingfisher: accordion, archipelago,
bounty, chittering, flotsam, gossamer, lodestar,
mollusk, nocturne, tributary, vestige, yearling

I gift them to you in alphabetical order. Whisper
them like prayers, my friends. Count the days.
Let the tears spill from your eyes like
rivulets. Look for the moments that feel like
divination. Remember: Jane Goodall said not to
lose hope. She knew how to listen, truly listen

You see, in the end, you piece together
a life with what’s in front of you: butter knife,
honey jar, apricot marmalade squeezing
out whatever sweetness you can and never
forgetting to lick each trembling finger

*

The daughter of Chinese immigrants, Jen Soong is a writer, artist and educator based in Northern California. She is the author of Extra Ordinary Days, a collection of poems and art, and the creator of See You See Me, a collage book exploring Asian identity and acts of resistance. An alum of Tin House and VONA, her writing has appeared in The Washington Post, The Audacity, Black Warrior Review and Best Small Fictions. She received her MFA in creative writing from UC Davis. Find her work at jensoong.com.