A Careful Measurement

It’s all I can do since you stopped writing to me
to recreate your image in a story
in which you are as tall as you ever were
and as sleek with the same bushy hair
but I’ve added some embarrassing skin afflictions

you are trotting across a country road in the rain
and to my credit, I don’t let any cars hit you
there is nothing but thunder and lightning
striking through the gravy of a sky
with the consistency of porridge
I have surrounded you with this setting
as a suffocating, lonely blanket
the mud staining the bottom of your skirts
and all the cows and horses in hiding
somewhere warmer than you will be able to find
until several chapters later
the scene is lumpy gray with mud and clouds
both splashing and infuriated
then, as you are running, your heel breaks

that is exactly how much I hate you today



I don’t have fur coats and leather boots

and i may never reach the point where i do

but I’ll tell you one thing

I ‘m glad I’m not you.

Untranslatable Emotions

I come over to your house,
sit on your lap,
discover a copy of
the pick up artist
and tear it to shreds
saying, “I’m not doing this
because I love you
but because this book
is offensive to women.”
and you stay steady
you say, “Ok, Georgia,
any other books you want to burn
or ways you want to censor me?”
and again, we start laughing.
You say, “Yeah, ok.
But say what it is
you came here to say.”
“I don’t have anything
to say, I’m leaving.”

I already said
what I wanted to
when I told you about
Korean Han,

Han, the untranslatable
which describes the hate of generations
when vengeance is unsuccessful
and it builds
the rage that is the result
of a lifetime of oppression
and how you unleashed it on me
several years ago, when we were both
such young things
and how anything can unleash it.
how you’ll shun your friends forever
because of something
that happened to your parents
or shoot a guy
over a traffic violation

and you say, “Georgia,
come back and marry me
someday, ok? Do you think you need
a year, or three? I’ll be here.
We can always start over.”
and I say “Ok, I love you.
but I’m angry, too.
I’m exhausted and I have the han
from being single.
but, for you?
Ill think about it.

It’s always you
I come back
to burn the books of.
It’s always your house
im breaking into

So, I’m thinking.
but also, again,
I am leaving.
it’s all because
of what you did to me
when we were both
such young things
I have the han
built up inside me
and like a good Korean
I know that its made me successful,
so I don’t want it gone,

I just wish I could’ve been
a different person
one who this
didn’t happen to
I wouldn’t even care
If I was unsuccessful

but the han is inseparable
from what ive become
and I cant imagine still being me
with it gone