At the peak of beauty could tragedy strike. Today I left the lunar halo and focused on the blizzard not yet spent this morning. The interplay of night and day. Deception and falsity. Growing kindest to the hand that choked me with care. I lay prone on the edge of night and wished to become a mild voice. I wished to lean toward the warble of the innocuous instant. Toward the vision of my walking away. Toward the neat cross section of my back. But now is the time to become distinct by tracing the pattern of dizzying deceit. A searing hand from yesterday can gather up heavy snow. We spoke of infinity while pressing on each other’s vital points which were like shrieks in circulation. Like sclerae swelling with sorrow. Like horizons growing continuously close then forever far. I could wrap our brightest dreams around my neck then streak through the night sky. And so the entrusted winter could shine brightly on the filth of who clings.
“삭흔” © Lee Hyemi. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2022 by Soje. All rights reserved.