i watch with hollow eyes. Relinquish everything
i once knew to let the languid motions of the film enter me
roughly. The woman kissing
something probably. Her: a beautifully vacant orifice
but for now, overflowing with something like hunger
that i swallow greedily. Her: red drool cutting through my lips.
My father changes the channel to a documentary
about the War to teach me how to properly love in korean:
roped naked women bruised beautiful on military trucks.
Love: soldiers slicing open white dresses
in search of a blood mine to satiate their thirst.
Love: a revenge for existence.
The little boy is a wannabe soldier
determined to conquer this body
that i wear & call his. Inside me his fingers become spears
puncturing dead meat & i hope to flood
the battlegrounds with rivers of leaking red. Flickers
of his cigarette land suicide missions on my skin—we are trembling.
i watch with hollow eyes. Relinquish myself
into another present: a pond overflowing with hunger.
White lotus flowers blooming into soft breasts & i
pluck its petals, lovingly.
He loves me not, she loves me not
he loves me not, she
plants misty kisses on my collarbones. i
dig them up softly
before they are tainted of me: your tenderness
has no place on this body
littered with cigarette burns blooming
into bullet wounds, a night sky across the ribcage. Dear Father
i wish i could teach you love.
Change the channel to her lips again: a hole swallowing its orifice
& breathe light into the dusk of your eyes.
Father, this is my first lesson: there are flowers that bloom in water
& boys with quivering hands
& women who love women
& daughters
who learn how to
love.