crammed into the main room of the apartment
grandmother, aunts and uncles, cousins and sisters,
one brother, shy because he’s outnumbered
and forlorn away from his console
we press in gracefully, no one crowds

even in skirts we sit on gleaming yellow floors
like nobles, legs turned just so, like fine furnishings,
the pale sofas remain immaculate
through several rounds of fruit and cake

the pears, the melon, the peaches, the castella
the fruit cut like gems, ripe and perfect as legend
the cake pillowy and gold, boldly subtle, un-iced
the conversation and laughter in Korean
fluid between the elders and flowing between the young
as we use hands, faces, and broken off chunks
of language to cross over and understand

my mother’s family is warm and welcoming
reuniting means flying and driving forever
once a decade if they’re lucky
there’s only time for sweetness

so clean the knife and slice more fruit
wipe it clean and cut more cake