He stood alone in the backyard, so dark
the night purpled around him.
I had no choice. I opened the door
& stepped out.
In going to meet the bull, the speaker steps out of one place and through a doorway to another. In Zen Buddhism, of which Vuong is a practitioner, The Ten Bulls of Zen is a metaphoric progression of the steps toward self-realization and enlightenment. The claim "I had no choice" holds an interesting tension with lines from other poems in the collection which suggest that there is, indeed, a choice between forging out to meet oneself or drowning in one's despair. For example, the lines, "You can walk away. You can be nothing // & still breathing. Believe me" from the poem "Tell Me Something Good" contrast with these lines from the epigraph poem (Lines 33-34). But "I had no choice" being placed here in the poem sets the tone for the entire collection.
The use of ampersand is significant in Vuong's work. In an interview about his first poetry collection, Vuong states, "my insistence on [the ampersand] in my writing is a nod to the tangibility of language and how it has possibilities to be more than itself outside of the alphabet—like, say, in the body" (Akbar). He also states that the ampersand as a symbol is recognizable to people, like his mother, who are illiterate.
Oh no. The sadness is intensifying. How rude.
Hey [knocks on my skull], can you get me out of here?
These lines display the way in which Vuong writes about sadness with a sense of humor, and also the speaker's acknowledgment of his own voice. The conversational voice that Vuong gives the speaker in this poem creates a distinct persona. Though Vuong was born in 1988 (making him a millennial), this quote uses dark humor as a coping mechanism in a fashion often associated with Gen Z. "Oh no" and "how rude" have a self-mocking edge to them. The action encased in brackets instructs the reader's imagination in a different way than just stating, "I knock on my skull." There is a pause in the narration and the action functions as an aside.
That one time Jaxson passed out beside a triple stack of
jumbo pancakes at Denny's after top surgery.
I can't believe I lost my tits, he said a minute before, smiling
through tears.
The sadness in him ends in me tonight.
Top surgery, as defined by a John Hopkins physician, is "surgery that removes or augments breast tissue and reshapes the chest to create a more masculine or feminine appearance for transgender and nonbinary people" (Liang). This passage recounts a moment after a friend underwent the surgery. Keeping in line with Vuong's use of humor while discussing heavy topics, the situation is portrayed as both ordinary and absurd. Vulnerability is placed beside pancakes, jokes and smiles occur through tears. Bodies and feelings are made borderless, particularly with the line "The sadness in him ends in me tonight" (Line 23). The connection created between the speaker and his friend demonstrates the way in which Vuong writes about queerness.
I know. I know the room you've been crying in
is called America.
I know the door is not invented yet.
A prominent image in this collection is that of doorways toward transformation. Established in the epigraph poem "The Bull," doorways (and outlines) appear throughout. This particular quote is significant because it zooms out on a geopolitical scale. To cry in a room called America can be understood in a variety of ways. Because the "you" in this poem is unspecified, it can apply to the reader. Here, Vuong taps into various sufferings taking place on a national level. They could be due to racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. The repetition of "I know" serves as a soothing acknowledgment of the sense of feeling trapped because "the door is not yet invented" (Line 54).
...The pan bubbling
into a small possible
sun. I am
a decent son.
This quote defines a complex relationship between a mother and a son who, after taking his mother's tip money to buy drugs, cooks her a meal that she taught him to make. Vuong uses the language and image of the food to reflect the nature of the relationship. The word "sun" becomes "son," and the latter is reflected from something described as small and possible. This gives a sense of understatement or hesitation that serves to undercut the certainty of the statement that follows: "I am // a decent son" (Lines 21-22). The word "decent" means conforming with generally accepted standards of respectable behavior, but it could also imply kindness.
...Gently
the birches sway but never
touch. The crickets
unhinge their jaws
in first light, last
syllables crackling
like a pipe steady
over a blue flame
These descriptions of nature give a sense of the poem's theme of complex connection. Something brims beneath a surface that appears to be calm, beautiful, and normal. The birch trees move but do not touch, reflecting the relationship between the speaker and his mother. The verb "unhinge," with its deranged connotation, is used to describe the jaws of the crickets as they make sounds. Crickets make sounds through the process of stridulation: they rub certain parts of their body together to make noise. It is only the male crickets who do this (to keep away predators and to call to females). That the crickets here "unhinge their jaws" to make sound is an example of pathetic fallacy. The sound is then compared to a pipe held steady over a blue flame. The only instance of stillness or steadiness in these lines is the pipe.
Once, at a party set on a rooftop in Brooklyn for an “artsy vibe,” a young woman said, sipping her drink, You’re so lucky. You’re gay plus you get to write about war and stuff. I’m just white. [Pause.] I got nothing. [Laughter, glasses clinking.]
Because everyone knows yellow pain, pressed into American letters, turns to gold. Our sorrow Midas-touched. Napalm with a rainbow afterglow.
The speaker's so-called "luck" that the woman envies bears the mark of violence and forced separation. As the speaker goes on to describe, the war that shaped his family history forced his people to move to the rhythm of machine gun fire. The trauma, PTSD, and displacement this caused are frequent topics in Vuong's work. With the brackets outlining the sound of laughter and glasses clinking, the passage has an uncomfortable tone.
This calls attention to the issues of tokenism and fetishization that affect minority groups. Individuals from these groups are made to represent the entire group in what is only a symbolic gesture of inclusivity. There is, Vuong suggests, a fetishistic literary appetite for "yellow pain" (Line 25).
Enough. Time is a mother. Lest we forget, a morgue is also a community center. In my language, the one I recall now only by closing my eyes, the word for love is Yêu. And the word for weakness is Yếu.
The single-word line "Enough" signals a change in the speaker's sentiment before giving the line that gives the collection its title. A mother is one's origin, meant to provide nurturing and guidance. Many of Vuong's poems engage with time as a spiraling force; he returns to things of the past and writes about absent and deceased people. Here, this force is defined as a "mother," an origin that shapes and nurtures the speaker. The following line "Lest we forget, a morgue is also a community center" translates death into something communal (Line 74). The speaker then shows the linguistic similarity between the words for love and for weakness in Vietnamese. This suggests a relationship between the two, and echoes a line from an earlier poem: "Nobody's free without breaking open" ("Beautiful Short Loser" Line 41).
Oct.
CozyNites Fleece Blanket, pink
Sleep-Ease Melatonin caps, 90 count
Icy Hot Maximum Strength pain relief pads
The items listed in this poem bring into focus the character of the speaker's mother. The inventory for the month of October begins to reflect the change that eventually leads to the mother's demise. October is a month that begins to get colder in Connecticut, moving in the direction of winter but still in the throes of autumn. From this list, the reader gets a sense of that coldness and also deduces that the character has trouble sleeping as a result of pain.
Apr.
Chemo-Glam cotton scarf, flower garden print
“Warrior Mom” Breast Cancer awareness T-shirt, pink and white
Some time has passed since the mother's cancer diagnoses. The "Chemo-Glam cotton scarf, flower garden print" makes it clear that she cares for her appearance even as she goes out for chemo treatments. Several items purchased in the previous and following months make it clear that the mother deals with pain, but still she takes care in her personal appearance. The poet does not offer any reasons or insight into the mother's choices, letting the lists speak for themselves.
The “'Warrior Mom' Breast Cancer awareness T-shirt" gives a strong sense of the character's identity as a mother.
