i.
Dusty granite countertop,
dishes stacked against one end
Three pairs of chopsticks become two,
and two pairs become one
In the late night, a student’s hand comes home,
picking the lonely pair.
The stars blink when she leaves,
shaking loose a fluorescent buzz
Red zeroes snag on her,
black smudges on her fingertips
By the time she arrives home,
the sky smothers the final star.
She wakes tomorrow, tomorrow-tomorrow,
again and again
Each day, her mother sicker,
each day, the soup broth thinner
And the monster up the road,
each day, watching her approach.
ii.
Gaping its jaw, red uncleansed,
the monster swallowed all her friends
Short or tall, rich or poor,
it eats and eats and eats some more
The world hushes when its footsteps fall,
gripped by its unyielding thrall.
Mid-November chill biting,
stomach twisting into knots
Her mother’s prayers following,
through the door and down the road
In silence frozen and gagging,
she crawls inside the monster’s mouth.
Plumes of heat shudder by,
familiar white jags overhead
Red eddies drip on her hands,
practiced sprint faltering to plummet
Swallowed by ink,
as time ticks out.
iii.
The sun burns out, blanket of black,
the stars look down, flicker away
The tide laps up, picking her back out,
washed off to shore, she stumbles, stares
A moth flutters upwards,
the crow-feathered sky beckoning.
Neighbors whisper and gawk,
her mother’s back stiffens
She tires of waiting,
listening to satiated slumber
A raven shrieks,
her hand drips red.
Dusty granite countertop,
dishes stacked against one end
A single pair of chopsticks,
washed and used again and again
Winters melt to springs, summers to autumns,
while the maw yawns open.
…
Inspired by South Korea’s college entrance exam, the Suneung, and the students that forego their wellbeing to study for this life-determining test, this poem seeks to address the social stigma that casts mental health as disparate from physical health. The poem consists of nine sijos, a traditional form of Korean poetry.