Testimony of the shrimper, whose name means “the Ocean”

Vincent Hostak

May 26, 2024

Pilot any gulf, it is always the same:

the sun chases the moon,

the moon chases the sun

and in the dark, shrimp move freely from the flounder.

Like a careless breeze, they flow into my nets.

By day or night, my name is Dại dương.

My name means “the Ocean.”

In every gulf, there is a bay 

and an army to chase my family away. 

We set course to Malaysia when Saigon fell, 

in Galveston we faced the Klan.

They burned our craft and called us “Cong.”

There is always a faster, meaner fleet

to my one boat and nine-mile limit.

When will the next armies come:

the importers, the commercial fleets?

I can only net and clean so many in a day.

As the prices fall, I plan my next migration:

sell the boat, buy chickens, work by day in dirt,

where my name will always mean “the Ocean.”

Vincent Hostak is a writer and media producer from Texas now living near the Front Range of Colorado south of Denver. His recently published poems are found in the journals Sonder Midwest and the Langdon Review of the Arts in Texas and as a contributor to the TPA. He writes & produces the podcast: Crossings-the Refugee Experience in America.