Published in Overland Issue 241 Summer 2020 · Poetry seek orchards, shelter. Grace Yee they sailed into some savage country in 1926 on the ss victoria, incarcerated by a map of ideal drawings, dim in the hold. tea in the great depression was surreptitiously sipped. the spoons moved slowly. work involved a great deal of manual labour, oftentimes harsh. the promise of foreplay a gaunt outline through diminished interior windows. when the cook landed from canton, world war 2 arrived in a box of deferred losses. winter was soon upon them, her black mittens vaporous in the gloaming. refuge. by the time the marrow in their bones dewed, chinatown had become a significant social site. even when the weather broke, the chow mein in charlie’s café was imperishable. the quiet hours: a gum tree, a bench. glimpse of sea between two rocks, the rising/setting sun/moon. botanical companions: pressed flowers, pencilled leaves, timid aspen poems. fridays are plain rice and oyster sauce with mother. she has the jaw of a warrior, the eyes of a myocardial infarction, and parotid glands incapable of salivating english sentences. for love we play the piano, stand up for our elders, sweep the kitchen, scrub the bathroom floor. both rooms have garden views and bolts to conceal the baggage in our overheads. ornamental pears are tough to prune this year. the winds are wild, the branches ungainly, and there are possum innards trodden and slipped on the ground. fox fur. let me tell you about my forebears. their dialect was distinctive, their tongues unvarnished. all they needed to know at any given gong was which knife to sharpen next. being confucian, the women expected to go hungry at the far end of the room. to receive an exemption, grandmother purchased the palm prints of another woman in the village. facing west with neither shade nor awning, she grew bean sprouts on the verges of sweeping changes, cut cauliflowers, birthed eleven babies (three dead), played mah-jong. her last words hung from a poppy seed rope: life is longer than you think. take breaks. seek orchards, shelter.1 Italicised phrases borrowed and adapted from Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre, Oxford University Press, London (1933); Sally Pang, ‘Modern China Cafe’ and Doreen Cheong, ‘A Richly Embroidered Tapestry of Life’, in Sybil Jack et al, eds, Chinese Australian Women’s Stories, Jessie Street National Women’s Library in conjunction with The Chinese Heritage Association of Australia Inc, Sydney (2012). Read the rest of Overland 241 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Grace Yee Grace Yee teaches in the writing and literature programs at the University of Melbourne and at Deakin University. She is currently a Creative Fellow at the State Library of Victoria. Her poetry has most recently appeared in Meanjin, Rabbit, and Poetry New Zealand Yearbook. More by Grace Yee › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays First published in Overland Issue 228 8 September 202312 September 2023 · Poetry Poetry | Games Heather Taylor-Johnson Days pinch and lately I’ve noticed every time I look in the mirror I’m squinting—maybe it’s a grimace. Without trying I’ve mastered the façade of a Besser block threatened by a mallet, by which I mean maybe the world won’t kill me but it’ll definitely hurt and I’ve got to be ready. First published in Overland Issue 228 31 August 20236 September 2023 · Poetry Verbing the apocalypse: Alison Croggon’s Rilke Josie/Jocelyn Suzanne ‘This again?’ and ‘why now? Why not years ago?’ are the two questions raised in each new translation of a non-English piece of Western Canon. There’s an understanding—of course a poetic cycle like the Duino Elegies is incomplete in English, there are endless new readings—and a simultaneous sense of wounded pride/suspicion: what was missing the last time around? What were you concealing from me? What are you concealing now?