“Mobile Home” by June Chua
Poetry Pause is the League of Canadian Poets’ daily poetry dispatch. Read “Mobile Home” by June Chua.
Mobile Home
By June Chua
Our first abode was a house on wheels in a trailer park. Coarse, dry gravel underfoot. Oyen is a concrete
mat fringed by waves of amber. Oil pumps punctuate the land, walloped by fierce winds. Walking home
from school, my sisters and I once fought a mighty mistral. The youngest almost rooted out from us.
Clamping hard on her arms, we battled to the trailer. Soon, a neighbour at the door. Fomp-Fomp-Fomp.
You must leave now! You might be blown over!
We took shelter in the townโs only Chinese restaurant. The owners spoke a different dialect and offered
unfamiliar food. Fried chicken balls and red sauce? My mother shook her head. It roared damnation
through the night. We ate fried rice, played cards, and slept in our coats. Awakening to marble blue calm,
we return. The trailer tracks scraped one foot forward. We only move one direction, embracing apple pie,
Kraft Dinner, and Chef Boyardee ravioli.
I long for the square house on wooden stilts. Alberta air swirled in dust that could slice skin. Our cracked
lips bleed, echoing the land. Bodies cloaked in layers like hard, odourless onions. Malaysiaโs sticky jungle
morass reeked of thick decaying smells. The fiery, ebbing tropical sun. A moist and verdant heat. Rice
paddies displaced by wheat fields. Pungent ripening rambutan instead of bland bananas. The crisp,
fridge-cold lettuce tastes of wet paper. Every home masked by Febreze.
Canada is a mosaic! In the schoolyard, children pull their eyes into slits. Chink! I donโt wannaโ play with
you! We moved four times within 10 years. The houses got bigger. Our ambitions, too. We do turkey at
Thanksgiving, wear cowboy hats at the Stampede, and sing โGod Save the Queen.โ I feign a love of
waffles and Halloween. A lost stem seeking a rhizome. Birthing brittle confidence and hollow pride, I
evolve like a follicle on the plain, coveting the iron horses siphoning black gold.
Copyright ยฉ June Chua
June Chua used to read stories to her sister when they lived in Borneo, Malaysia. Eventually their family moved to the Canadian prairies, first living in a trailer park. Her love for writing translated into a career in journalism and filmmaking. Her works have appeared in Burningword, Yin Literary, Tough Poets Review, the Palisades Review and other magazines, newspapers and publications. A wannabe flamenco dancer, she resides and makes mischief in Berlin. @re.juneration
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