Four Poems

Abstract

May–August 2014 • 43 photo : nick fedele Four Poems Jeongrye Choi Catkind cats don’t grow to be tigers as a rose unfurls the blossom thorns fiercely wait there are tigers in all cats petals roll like small, unfolded tongues yellow eyeballs dizzy as moonlight running through centuries cats in their silver sleep grind teeth and clench claws cherishing the wild dreams of blood look inside any cat and there! the apricot of a tiger’s eye, shuddering like an apricot tree crouched in by an eagle now going on its way why are the strawberries so sweet probably to propagate their kind asks to be tasted then planted again and again people are devouring the pelvic curves of strawberry in their own ways shrewd, hiding stories in their seed each story disappearing like strawberries, there is another you inside you who laughs for the sweetness of strawberries a baseball geek, a dictator, a drunk stubborn while sons and daughters yell without reason you, you, and you, a suite of gifts that cannot be received just consider yourself from a distance, that you wearing the shirt and tie cancer cells hidden by an “I’m okay” hiding whims and unbending ideologies, “I love you” a small force that works like a cold, can be treated with a bowl of broth or sex, “I love you” only arrives when hiding inside other sentences because 44 worldliteraturetoday.org photo : hiram pascoal Jeongrye Choi has published seven award-winning books. Her poems have appeared in journals across the world, and in 2006 she participated in the International Writing Program at the University of Iowa. Together with Wayne de Fremery and Brenda Hillman, Choi cotranslated an Englishlanguage collection of her poems, Instances (Parlour Press, 2011). She has a PhD from Korea University. Dan Disney is an assistant professor with Sogang University’s English Literature Program. Un Gyung Yi is a PhD candidate in English literature at Sogang University. Daye Jeon is completing her master’s degree in English literature at Sogang University. from east to west window a woman is hanging out laundry she has toiled, but still isn’t clean enough you are the one who chose this sunlight moves from east window to west the woman considers shifting the laundry you are the one who chose this not knowing it would be this way the sunlight hanging on the window will leave soon there was once a Spring, once sometimes a poem can be only just so despite all efforts it feels wrong but there can be no anger a coat that must be worn in any case be courteous, stay clothed things once frozen have melted now those which were enmeshed are freed, and this was meant to be, must be, had to be this way what good can be done saying things like this anyway there’s him on the radio, the younger brother joyriding in the Piano Academy’s bus becomes the pianist on the radio the mountains far from my old house are now gray apartments in my new house is coincidence the ardor of destiny a force touches, then confluence, that’s how I am here wandering lost on the streets, six years old and one note against another coincidence and destiny flirting with each other the shadow from the opposite building arrives on the western window a tired body coming darkly home from work Why Am I Writing Your Travelogue You leave by Aeroflot. Abandoning the ground. Penetrating the clouds. I watch vacantly. You who are no longer seen. Then seen again. Aeroflot. The word floats in the air. I see it clearly after it’s gone. Then I hear your flight is delayed. Waiting and waiting. Nothing. No word of anything . No food or water. No money. The airport. They took away my passport. Put me on a bus. And now they are taking me somewhere. I don’t know but the snow outside is piling up. Nobody knows where this place is. A shabby hostel finally. Filthy blankets. Frozen faucets. Bugs. No one should take Aeroflot. The only thing Aeroflot has done for me is yell. What’d I do wrong. Dragging me for...