First Nights
by Jimin Kang

Here lie the shards of weekend
sleep, the rounded dreams of innocence.
Like bottle caps, sharp-edged on pock-marked
streets at the epiphany of 3AM,
 
my steps follow a trail left
by the directionless. Tonight,
we caress condensation like a lost lover,
drink the night in all shades
 
of clearness. Like a memory you move,
glorified in the wonderful, forgotten in silence.
Some beautiful you are, the light
illuminating your shut-eye stares.
 
The pretty get the promise. His hands
on her hips, a garment she has never worn
before. Night smells like a sanitised wound.
Maybe we can start again from here.

it is too loud,
by Jimin Kang

this feeling of taking
a sip three seconds after
the kettle. a whiplash of the
trachea. possibly it is a highway
to the soul, no bathroom breaks
on this road.
 
i feel haloes around my eyes; i think
i am sacred. or i am a curse, the
storm. have you heard
lightning before? it is the lovebird’s
formula: quick hurts. to hurt quick
is the torrent, a flash
 
is to die. they say thunder
is silent. this yellow-grey in my
eyes says there is something
amiss, but i do not know what it
is.
 
the thunder strikes, but i hear
nothing. echoes stay. i was deafened
by what left.