Childhood, memory, Poetry

What’s that?

Sandwiched between
sliced white bread:
cucumber, sambal
ikan bilis spread.

By my mother, for other
tongues made tame:
P2 party in my school
with a foreign name.

Noses crinkled, smiles wrinkled
as the lid was lifted.
Paper plates freshly filled
with home food gifted.

Tupperwares emptied,
all except mine:
sandwiched between
white bread and time.

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