Every time the moon rose, she prayed.
Finally Wol-nam’s mother, at forty, bore a son.
In dreams before pregnancy,
she swallowed the moon.
After her son was born, Wol-nam’s mother
would lose her mind
without fail
every time the moon rose.
Late at night, washing dishes,
she’d smash one bowl—
the moon then hid in a cloud
and the world grew blind.