Dinner Party Conversations

Emily Sun

An Invitation 

like Indonesian market day 
we must dress Asian or wear red 

the hostess is a specialist in the field 
she believes she speaks for oppressed women 

I put on my black tunic and bootleg jeans 

then I grab a chopstick from my cutlery draw 
and stick it in my hair. 

It’s not that I enjoy her dissections 
but I will respond only with  
buttered breads of praise 
complement her blinis 
because I am the lucky  
plus one. 

— —

Apéritif  

Moving on from Hippocrates’   
concoctions of absinthe and wine 
… 
       …  
  … 
 
… …           ….   ….   
 …. 
They said Saddaam was a bit like you 
Interested in the complexities of identity 
 
Oh? 
 
But only after he was in civilian clothes 
His guards only saw the grandfatherliness of the dictator 
 
My 
 
And no one had ever asked them before who they were 
before before. 
 
Before they were Americans but 
After they were Europeans.  
Reasons for their almond shaped eyes. 
 
They said he hollered a war cry 
The Good, Bad and the Ugly 
John Wayne was approaching 
When he carved candles for Christmas 
 
Oh! 
 
They all forgot about ethnic cleansing 
Played cards and would have binged watched Netflix together 
 
Really? 
 
If there had been streaming on demand 
 
… 
   ….. 


Hitler loved his dog.  

But is that humanity?  

— —

Over Lobster and Crème Fraiche  

I cling to the coast  
… not for the negative ions 
… nor the breeze 
 
I cling to the coast; it is  
a reminder that the earth is  
not flat and that 
beyond the horizon is some land. 

— —

Debating the Origins of Chicken Tikka Masala  

The rain in Spain 
How now brown mouse 
Inside that flooded house 
There were really no issues 
we coloured between the lines 
and received pronunciation  
even when it swam up the estuary. 
 
Those of us who escaped the estates and 
the national front; flew to warmer lands 
some to reclaim farmlands.  
 
We were a castrated line so 
in the shade of the red gum tree 
I began again, forgot the worldly words 
Blended in as I held my nose 
to speak. 
 
The mice and the homes were different here.  
I wondered what the Spanish called them. 

— —

Before the Fruit Platter 

I finally breathed when the anchors released me 

Into a world 

untethered 

  deleterious expectations  

 
Without a backstory  or 
adhesive narratives   

I  collected, cut and pasted 
a pastiche  
 
There was always shelter at home 
Maslow’s needs met but I kept sinking into springless sofas 
His pyramid from below 
Insurmountable  
The view from base camp. 
 
To fly to gain a galah’s eye view 
I had to tune out the tinnitus 
The searching of nothing to create something 
 
Bone broth is 汤 and we eat it at the end of the meal.