When we go out to eat, it must be dim sum;
No family is complete without dim sum.

My cousins, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents,
My mom, my dad, and me gather for dim sum.

Everyone already knows my favorite dishes.
Someone says, yum cha is short for dim sum.

You can use them interchangeably,
Though yum cha means to drink tea, whereas dim sum

Means a dollop of heart, as if each small plate
Is filled with love—we share every dish at dim sum.

Someone passes me a plate of ha cheung,
And then another, like there’s no end to dim sum.

Submerging each roll in soy sauce, I accept
Their love—to return the next time we have dim sum.

But years pass in silence, the table shortens, now,
It’s just my mom, my dad, and me at dim sum.

Despite my peanut allergy, and my mom
Who’s a vegetarian, my dad (at dim sum)

Orders a plate of chicken feet before
Anything else—his mother’s favorite dim sum.

He eats them in her memory, counting
Each bone before he continues with dim sum.

Can dim sum also mean to touch the heart?
Whose favorite dishes can I name at dim sum?

My mom picks at her bak choi and green beans.
Her favorite dish is to watch us eat at dim sum.

After the chicken feet, my dad finishes
A plate of pig intestines. Is this his dim sum?

What dishes will be left behind for me?
When you’re alone, you can’t go out for dim sum.

They won’t give you a Lazy Susan, you won’t
Be able to order enough to call it dim sum.

But being alone, Dylan, has never stopped you
From doing anything, much less dim sum.