Youa tells me a story over the hot hibachi:
How she went to Laos
To see her lucky sisters
For the first time in two decades,
Since the country has loosened up enough
To let tourists like us in.
"Isn‟t it beautiful? " she asks me,
Then says she gave her sister Mayli $50
To help her family.
When Youa returned to the Twin Cities,
She learned her sister had been murdered
For the money
By Mayli‟s ex-husband, who‟d heard
Of their family reunion
And thought the cash rightfully belonged to him.
"Did you give your relatives anything? "
"Yes, " I reply. "$500. But they say they need more
To get to America."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem