Enough
Megan Ng
You never had enough
When you were young
Seven children at the table
With less plates than mouths.
Pickiness is a modern day
Malaise. You recount days
When you were sent to live
Elsewhere, sat on a relative’s
One room floor, crouching
By Singapore River.
How you watched with half-
Ashamed and gobbly eyes
The adults’ greasy lips,
Sucking on roasted duck crisp
Heap of chilli sour red -
Sting of vinegar in the soft
Of your tongue, like hunger -
They always gave you
Leftovers: rice and chilli,
Not meat, you remember.
Cooking for your children
Today, anything less than more
Is like sitting on the floor;
You feed us as if to swallow
All possibility of empty.
Now there’s plenty, you come
To the table last, hardly eat
Your meals, untouched,
As if satisfied to say -
The hunger was enough.
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