please don't die

sixth grade

i open a tupperware and the smell
of mustard seed and coconut curry,
my mother's love encased in
fish sauce and roasted mutton,
lentil stew and sautéed eggplant
straight out of a yellowed notebook
in my grandmother's bengali script
comes floating out. the girls in
my class laugh at me over their
PB&Js and i throw my heritage
into the trashcan outside.