She didn’t get certified, so must study more, more
language, more life, more gripping handbags, thin-calved
walking, slender-footed parades, waves good-bye, the one
who didn’t dare has come and gone, leaving her with eyewear,
a slim-banded watch, see-through lace skirt, tenacious
desire, and new friend called Yaya who sits, red-eyed,
pen-stroking, jean-skirt surrounding young legs, separate
life, light blue heart-shaped hair clasp, blue sweater
on a warm, rainy day in case she has to hide her top from
conditions both frigid and hot that have crushed her party
here in Gwangju. This man she told me about won’t leave
her alone, and he proposes great things, but is not her type,
so she wears three thick layers even if this is late May.
No matter the joy, this year the earth shook, broke, quaked,
leaving no time for chit-chat. So how to connect to those
who go home before they fade out, but wait, the switch
got flipped a long time ago, so she stumbles around in his
darkness, losing certain functions, until, via friendship
she steps out smiling, her life is her own, but she still
has red eyes, not fully aware of how it all happened.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2008. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.