sneeze.
han-gang. christmas day.
what
would I give to cross the han once more
in
a half empty bus on christmas day
yeoido
bridge
over
december currents resisting freeze
can
I hear once more
the
polite recorded voice
calling
out the bus stops
until
I memorize the route
can
I stand at the back door again
swaying
with the traffic flow
as
my weight shifts through the small bones of my feet
let
me walk home one more time
leaning
backward as I walk downhill
while
children tip forward on the balls of their feet
to
run past me
let
me step stocking feet onto warmed floor
sit
with rice and soup and barley tea
this
land where I was born
this
land which I left
may
I return with the imaginary ashes
of
my long-buried mother
set
an ancestral table and burn incense
to
send her spirit down han-gang
and
up to mountainside pines
may
I see her face once more
the
mother who abandoned me
the
mother I return to
in
the embrace of the vinyl bus seat
on
christmas day
