Ghost You

It was a long wooden boat
to Heuksando, the black mountain island.  
Cliffs before and behind.
It was dark,
but there were lights.
Paper lanterns drifted on the inlets.

Underneath the charcoal currents
skeletons shuddered and stretched apart
their stale fingers: they whispered
your name. 

In the sea village
I gingerly tasted
the fermented skate ray
in tiny bites,
 sipped makgeolli
straight from the ceramic ladle.
Somewhere a man
plucked at his kayagum and the sound of it:
shy but true.
Nearly soundless.

	I prefer to travel
		alone anyway.  

Even in the heart
of the city
the voices were still,
a steady blaze 
of clean blue fire.  The towers
had no bells; the soft ingress
wafted mute swans.
	In the watery abyss
I felt my heart 
contort & crack 
into several pieces,

		floated away.

The sky is either blank
or it has too many colors.
Of course, by that point, there was nothing left
	for anyone

to say.  Even the dragonflies
were speechless:
a silent meteor shower
of silver wings skimming 
the opal water.

In my journal, it was written
in wet ink, Au silence de celle qui faire jaillir des êtincelles
There is a silence that makes sparks fly,

but all I remember
was feeling empty
and wingless.

Ready to be someone else.

One thought on “Ghost You

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s