Poem Does a Body Good

My mom is always wondering about the potency of things—

the potency of blueberries,

the potency of tomatoes,

the potency of gardenias.

I obsess over the potency of kindness,

or the potency of poetry.

Affection and gazes filled with warmth and attention . . .

think you want them?

My poetry contains no vitamins,

nor dietary fibers.

Sure, food is medicine for Koreans.

Gotta eat well

and live long. Doesn’t matter if you write poetry.

But Mom, do you see?

They see me and laugh.

The reason Mom eats blueberries

is because blueberries are good for the eyes—

Bullshit. Mom just likes blueberries.

Wouldn’t It Be Nice to Have a Lot of Money? 

It’d be nice to quit smoking

and buy iced coffee from the café sometimes,

showering my friends with gifts of flowers or fragrance.

Today, we’ve run out of ingredients, so we’re closing early.

People will see those words written on the sign and feel like they missed out.

I want to be the owner of a restaurant that can put up such a sign.

Every day, things run out and 

I am getting less and less foot traffic. 

Wouldn’t it be nice to make a lot of money?

And I want to love too, and love well.

The hue and the quality of the ingredients that make me—

someone will touch them, I hope.

Wet inside the closet without anyone knowing—

someone will take me out and shake me off, I hope.

Finally taking a sweet nap and never waking up—

so many around me say that this is their hope.

Yesterday and today are not enough,

and tomorrow is too much.

But love should be loved, perhaps.

How much honesty is possible before money, labor, and love?

Are they honest—money, labor, and love?

Wanting the untouchable to be touched—

I am the type of person who would say that is my hope.

At the grocery store, there is a candy named Firelight Ring.

A child looks at it for a long time.

Sweetly shining on our fingers.

We are poor of the promise called tomorrow.

by Ko Sunkyung

Translated by Jack Saebyok Jung