This is the fourth in a series of poems from a forthcoming poetry collection about raising a biracial daughter in Contemporary America, during this polarizing time of political and cultural upheavals where sexual harassment allegations abound, where a wall, literal and figurative, threatens to keep out immigrants like the narrator, a former refugee and child survivor of the Cambodian Genocide. You can find the complete series of poems below.
Tightrope Dancer
You climb the five-rung ladder
at the children’s playground.
Your mother crouches
below, holding breath.
I stand behind
counting the plastic rungs.
You kick us away,
“I’m a big girl.”
Your mother prepares
to catch your fall.
Each day we hold our breath,
cover our mouths with our hands,
close our eyes, and pray.
Of course, we want you to reach
The top, but not too fast.
And not too far from us.
About the Author: Bunkong Tuon is the author of Gruel (2015) and And So I Was Blessed (2017), both poetry collections published by NYQ Books, and a regular contributor to Cultural Weekly He is also an associate professor of English and Asian Studies at Union College, in Schenectady, NY.
Bunkong Tuon’s series of poems on raising a biracial daughter in contemporary America:
Image Credit: Alice S. Kandell “A young girl swinging on a handcrafted swing, Sikkim” (1969) The Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 