Jeanilyn Kwan
An Acquired Taste
A Chinese idiom claims that those who “eat
bitter” will taste sweetness later. For years,
I took my coffee black on an empty stomach,
the sanctuary for all of my butterflies
and Kafkaesque thinking. Every pang of
anxiety has nested within my gastric glands. But
the belly can do more than bloat. How often
can one be warned that her appendix is about
to explode? When inflammation
befriends a child, it brings a promise
of lifelong companionship. One’s closest ally
easily becoming the discomfort eroding her
sense of self
and stomach lining. I ate
black coffee until it was no longer bitter
but boring. When we temporarily lose our senses
of taste, which one is first to return? The sweetness
or the bitterness? Even those who find sweetness
will find ways to reduce it. For balance. I believed
in coffee on its own, without sugar
coating or creamer. An acquired
taste turned sacred ritual. But how
did I pick this up? Where can I exchange it
for some milk, eggs, and compassion? Today I listen
to my stomach growl and still wonder what
my anger looks like. I know the script
to an irritable bowel by heart. It is like a fable
that haunts me, where the moral of
the story is those who are taught to suffer
only get good at suffering.
Jeanilyn Kwan is a Nigeria-born writer of Singaporean and Filipino heritage. Her work tends to meditate on the malleability of language, memory, and identity, drawing from a life across distinct urban landscapes: Lagos, Manila, Beijing, Dallas, and Singapore. Her recent and forthcoming writing can be found in Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, 异典 Oddilogues, Pandan Weekly, and Atelier Arcadia’s What We Burn For anthology. She is currently pursuing postgraduate studies in psychology after over a decade of working as a copy editor.
Copyright © 2026, Taipei Poetry Collective | TPC Review | All Rights Reserved
