“Chinese Red Wedding Cards”
by Lillian Au

A one-room printing shop of paper cuts
Mother folds wedding cards in Chinatown
quiet desperations pressed down

Trays of Chinese metal typefaces to remember
a labyrinth of words to decipher
squinting with a tweezer
line by line shuffling characters
stroke by stroke Father types

Upon waking, machines roar
shushed by four-letter words
side by side they argue
a slag heap of words bears a slow weight

Time hunches over
pouring acid into metal dies
tender promises to love and obey harden
double happiness symbols
hot stamped on wedding cards

With pink tissue paper tucked inside
typed in Chinese and English on each side
Mr. and Mrs. Wong cordialy invite you
except there’s a missing l and 300 cards are due

How do you spellcheck illiterate?
Mother folds botched wedding cards into paper airplanes
Father’s yelling flies up the street
newly engaged couples swerve up the stairs in retreat

Customers go online to save time and money
one half of a marriage droops
Mother’s mini stroke goes unnoticed
hot stamping gold foil to the beat of her pounding head

 

 

 

From The Malahat Review's summer issue #235