Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
there are only two
plastic tables
And six plastic
chairs. A green
handscrawled
note on the glass
door reads
‘Food to go’
‘Food delivery’
under a
singular
white light.
At Little Saigon,
a middle-aged
Vietnamese
man takes our
order in a small
notepad. The owner,
also Vietnamese,
hurries out to us
and apologizes for
not having the
caramelized ginger
chicken curry.
We accept the
other curry she
is offering.
Meanwhile,
a family of
three wait
inside for
their dinner,
groups of men
crowd the liquor
store nearby
and dogs rise
occasionally
to bark at
each other.
We are given
mismatched
quarter plates
and an abundance
of cutlery and chopsticks.
The man asks us if we
know how he can live-
stream the Olympics.
“In Vietnam,” he says
in broken English,
“We had an app, where
we could watch it for free.”
We tell him everything
here is paid. The liquor
store shuts abruptly,
the market reduced to
silence – no more
two-wheelers
screeching, no
more cars honking,
nothing but
murmurs
at the corner shop.
At little Saigon, we
eat a yellow gravy infused
with curry leaves and
coconut. We slurp at a clear
soup with thick rice noodles,
steaming of cardamom
and lemongrass.
We pause –
only to look at each other.
← Urooj