Sunday, September 19, 2010

There're Korean Figurines in My Cubicle

Spill me from naked fingers
blushing under the attentive
gaze of sun strokes,
that gift liver spots
and beauty marks
and freckles in equal measure.

Yesterday I was told that
having a small face was the
height of beauty
and with Socratic induction
informed, that in all my
foreign glory-
I fit the standard.

With each conversation
we weave ourselves together
crosshatch cacti longing
that prickles as it pines
for summer days spent shucking corn
and snapping peas-
I'll count the hours by your shadow.

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