litany for the dying
Dwight School Seoul
the air feels like a storm today and by
that i mean the leaves are overripe
with heaviness. there isn’t a way this
story ends that isn’t tragedy.
winter has left my wrists
hollowed and hallowed
and full of longing.
bleeding out on the sheets?
saying, this is the wound and
it means the light is coming through.
the year’s spring flowers into me. we’ve
gone down this rabbit hole and come up
with clenched fists on the other side,
so much that some days i can’t tell if i
am a ghost. a dead thing won’t know the
difference between what is still living and
what is left to rot.
i make a habit of trying to lie to the moon
but i can never quite manage it; she and i,
we shed our faces every
season. we’re all of us looking for
the same things here:
for the sky to split
open. for a god that will worship us back.
for the act of wounding, pressing itself
against the arch of my throat.
I may never get over the line, “For a god that will worship us back."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Eunice Kim is a Korean-American writer living in Seoul. She attends Dwight School Seoul and will graduate in 2021. Her work can be found in Rose Quartz Magazine, The Hellebore Press, and Anatolios, among other publications. Eunice currently works as a staff reader for The Adroit Journal.