19) This Man

      Wolran Kim

 

1

He came after confining himself in front of a monitor for hours

This man, he must have watched porn and got horny 

I am also excited at the poetic sentiment

There is a pocketbook and a pen at the head of my bed, but

If his heavy stick develops to a baseball bat

This man, would kill me in full vigor

Or he may spit out to my dog to get out of the room, slamming the door

This man has faith that the daytime stress can be rid of at night

But the night stress cannot be relieved during the day

“There is no hysteria in you that I cannot solve”

Under which title should I put this line?

It is true that I will forget all of it if I don’t write it down right now

Do not say “I love you” in a second language

Wait, which one is the first, body language or Korean?

I have to write this down anywhere I can

This man, never having read any of my poetry yet

He only intently reads the poetry, scratched down on my body

Ok, it is good to live together

I’d rather have a short and thick life than a long and thin one

Therefore, there is no pain for a long time

Never forget that my attention depends on elaborate kissing

Ritardando is much better than staccato

Please play the clitoris and G-spot in arpeggios

You should read correctly all the musical notes and symbols in my eyes

A whole tone of commas should be imprinted on my right earlobe

It would not be too bad if you scare me with a sudden fortissimo

Yes, right there, I should write it down

Ah, there

When I keep writing, he keeps erasing them, this man

“Why are you writing poetry that never makes money?”

I like to write down the moment of climax every night

If you touch deeper, I may become a porn writer

Ah, there

Oh,

When I make his back a braille book with my ten fingernails

“I told you, stop writing!”

He turns me over with my face down, this man

 

2

This man, plays with a gun nowadays. He used to carry it on his belt when he went outside, but never at home before. He went hunting with his longest last weekend. I advised him to not kill pretty animals when he left, and he said that he only hit a target in the midst of an unfrequented desert when he came back. His gun is equipped with a trigger of mercy because it has not taken away life so far. His gun is made of metal pieces of illusion that it saves lives, because it has not killed anyone yet. At times, he aims his one eye toward the very distant empty sky. In the far air, never reached by a sound, a handful of souls not wearing bodies might have been shot to death. His gun has a shooting ratio of ninety-nine percent, just likes a sniper’s, who devotes his life to training. Someday, when someone’s dream comes true, his gun is ready to intercept. Clicking, clicking. By the time you hear the sound of the reassembling of his gun, he may be counting the bullets of tomorrow after a neat shower.