Sopa de Feijão

A poem about appetite, dread, and being told to be grateful anyway.

As soon as I would open

                                                     the garden gate

fresh off the bus from school

the smell would sucker punch me

a cartoon-sketched aroma shaped like a closed fist

ramming its way into my poor nostrils

Descending the basement steps to the kitchen

                                                     felt like walking the plank

                                                                                              to my 

doom

The scent of the red kidney beans

and the red sausage

and the red broth

that had bubbled angrily for hours

then blended with potato into a punishment 

so inevitable it made me dig my nails into my palms

anticipating the fullness

                                       too much

                                                 stomach stretching                        

    too much 

pressure building like a geyser 

she’s gonna blow!

I knew I would be on my knees

                                                      retching 

the hot, stinging lava into the cold porcelain

some beans still whole and floating like islands 

in the now brown sea of dollar store Fabuloso 

Worse still, would be to vomit back into my soup bowl only to be forcefully

spoon fed                                   

                                                       drowning

because the children in Africa were starving 

and they would be grateful for this meal

- Ariel Fox

Ariel Fox

Ariel Fox is a writer trying to understand what it means to build a home from nothing—no inherited traditions, no family ties, an intentional island. An Azorean-American now living in Connemara, Ireland, her work moves through estrangement, migration, and the quiet, disorienting task of becoming someone new. Her debut poetry collection, Maldita, is in progress.

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Itaewon Diaries: Survival Tactics