Subsistence Economy After the blight she thought often of the steamed bun skins she’d thrown away her whole life. Lapping up anti-carb hate lit, peeling those fluffy white skins, tasting those fillings: pasty red bean, charred meat, gooey custard, demure lotus seed. Fingertips scorched, mouth and tongue burnt by tiny bursts of steam, chewing through a world of yesterday’s textures. So many skins on so many plates – a harvested mountain, foothills of ivory dough puffing up, frothing to a crimson peak. She could have, should have eaten that for a lifetime. Ahead was a realm of alien textures, new appetites to wrestle, fresh dangers to feed; still she dreamed of those steamed bun skins. This poem first appeared in Aimsir Journal: Lúnasa 2024, 26 September 2024. Ping Yi writes poetry, travelogues and fiction, and is in public service. His work appeared in Orbis, Litro, London Grip, Aimsir Press, ONE ART, Harbor Review, Litbreak, Vita Poetica, Poetry Breakfast and Wild Greens, among others. Ping Yi is from Singapore, and lived in Boston, MA, and Cambridge, UK.
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