Rice wine
on your smooth
maroon lips and brave
you asked
what I really thought
of you.
At last, a glimpse of the man! The man beyond
his buttonhole career, the real Lee Songjin.
Inside the silver threads of your flashy suit,
the one you wore to sell pharmaceuticals, the man
outside of your SUV and the gold watch
you wore successfully, I saw past
the You that I thought I knew.
What could I say?
Now, cinched with regret
that I never said ̶
you are not
a compilation
of characteristics.
With a former lover, we'd never greet with a hello or a kiss,
but ease up to each other like two unfamiliar cats.
We'd brandish our noses in each other’s necks
sniffing out that exact word, one that would fit
our own personal poems, and when we found it
we'd boldly leap through the lines knocking over
metaphor and metres into some wordless embrace ̶ oh,
you don't even know
you are a poem, have
never taken the time
to read your own
pages, don't even know
what lies inside the cover
in which your culture
has bound you.
Nobody’s ever told you,
you are already
perfectly written.
~coreen boucher~
I met Coreen while backpacking in Asia years ago now. Strangely, I only found out about her poems today! The more I read this one, the more I like it. I hope you enjoy it, too.
Check out her webpage for more poems: www.coreenboucher.com
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| Picture taken by Laura Johansen |
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