• Esther Kim

Quarantine tasting sour

Updated: Jul 23


Art by Sandi Shao & Elina Krima

means we escape

to the mountain every day. Johda is


a chorus, swallowed

by the horizon on Monday,


caught in the mouths of forsythias


on Tuesday. It’s been a while

since I sensed good. The last time,


the four of us seated miles

above the ocean, pressing our fingers


to the windows—a thousand prayers


to Seoul. Tonight, we bow

to the east, translate


the news into pieces

more languid, edible—


we cannot mouth


the star-spangled prose

of this land of the free.

Sixteen years of folding


into ourselves—when can we leave?


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