Moon at Half Past Noon

Some fell to grease, some to fragile boxes,
A Marine’s embrace, a nun’s soft tucking.
Pilots heard cooing as the city burned,
A lullaby of rotors, a world overturning.

Bye Bye Saigon, we fled by boat, by foot, by paper,
Vowels softened, names unsaid.
Sài Gòn to Saigon, Hope in new tongue,
Our stories whispered, forever young.

Weighed in rice sacks, measured by time,
Unlearning “Mẹ ơi,” a forgotten chime.
Scars like birthmarks, hidden so deep,
Hope in a language I couldn’t keep.

Bye Bye Saigon, we fled by boat, by foot, by paper,
Vowels softened, names unsaid.
Sài Gòn to Saigon, Hope in new tongue,
Our stories whispered, forever young.

At sixteen, a delta, a map unclaimed,
War in a shoebox, strangely framed.
Dreamt of bún chả, a craving so strong,
Searching for answers, where do I belong?

Hà Nội, 2008, a mother’s fake face,
Pixelated ghosts in a sacred space.
Then Melbourne’s embrace, a twin’s warm hand,
Identical scars, across the land.

Bye Bye Saigon, we fled by boat, by foot, by paper,
Vowels softened, names unsaid.
Sài Gòn to Saigon, Hope in new tongue,
Our stories whispered, forever young.

Now my son builds, with glitter and Áo Dài,
Vines climb the fences, reaching for the sky.
“Ru Con” we sing, off-key and true,
Weaving a new song, for me and for you.
No bowl can hold this tangled green,
Relentless thriving, a vibrant scene.