All month I cast mahjong tiles
into the middle of the table
like coins. Last March
before I leave home. In this art form
based on probability, you taught me,
odds dictate you won’t always win
the round. The true game is to win
the most. Esther, please be
happy. In that case,
Mom, take these promises
like parting gifts:
I will not be a north wind,
a white dragon, a 红中. I will not
be discarded. I will re-
understand each milestone
as a winning hand. Happiness
as the entire game. I will calculate
which tiles increase my chances
of completion, that self-draw
of the last missing tile.
When the job offer falls through,
or he doesn’t come back, or the cold
new city rejects the winter’s thaw, I—
I will call for another round.
Note: 红中 (hóng zhóng) refers to a type of mahjong tile marked by the Chinese character 中 in red; typically discarded early in the round due to its relatively few combinations.
Esther Sun is a Chinese American writer from the Silicon Valley. A two-time Pushcart Prize nominee, she received a Gold Medal Portfolio Award in the 2021 Scholastic Art and Writing Awards and has published poems in DIALOGIST, Cosmonauts Avenue, Pacifica Literary Review, and elsewhere. She attends Columbia University. • Photo by the author