대추나무와 사귀다 (Dating a Jujube Tree)

By | 6 August 2011

Maybe some insect has gnawed at Mother’s circuits,
her memory often stumbles vaguely.
Now Mother has entered the lane called forgetfulness
so that even when offered a cue
her whole life is upside down as though she has been living somewhere ridiculous.
Here are paths of life and death, but they are indistinguishable.
so this evening, waking from a superficial dream,
my sleep refuses to grow deep again.
The more I toss this way and that, the clearer my mind,
in the room where I am alone something falls with a Plop,
someone opens then shuts the door of the room opposite. Is it a hallucination?
Come to think of it, you’re of an age to date an absence,

. . . . the mist on the window that day, that refused to vanish however hard I rubbed,
in a car carrying three people, I heard a woman’s song mingled with sobs . . . .

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