Find our interview with Trin here.
mom, is it weird that I want to crawl inside your belly button?
swirl in your navel fluff?
cuddle dead skin cells, clothing fibers, peach fuzz—together
bonded by oily residue?
tread between teeny folds trapping moisture
& settle there?
where umbilical cord, clamped and cut, abandoned circular
stump to dry and detach.
here, I feel closer to your ovaries—to my genesis as oocyte immature
oo we’re born with all the eggs we’ll ever have.
I was with you upon your birth in Iba, Zambales
leafy trees bearing
green gooseberries
swaying to sweet newborn cries
with you amidst immigration age 6
all blunt bangs, cherub cheeks just like mine…
smushed atop pillows, limbs curled inward, eyes shut:
conceiving ways to reach you.
~~~
Trin Encarnacion (she/her) is a Filipina American daughter of immigrants who grew up in San Diego, California. She now resides in Bellingham, Washington where she pursues an MFA in creative writing at WWU, teaches first-year writing, and writes stories about the Gen Z Filipina American coming of age. Her writing has appeared in Pinch, Periphery, Sardine Can Collective, and elsewhere.
