by Joseph Han
I knew enough enough to say I’ll be back from school Not without attending Korean classes workbooks, matching pictures to hangul:|한|글| |한|글| instead of admitting not knowing |한|글| mute greeting, feigned concentration cycling through영어: English to [forget] what is right, what is correct, choose, choose, choose admit to losing words: [잊어(버렸어)요] (to throw away)
He knows how to speak a little | | | how to read and write | | | It’s because he only spoke English with his grandfather
watches soaps, simultaneously trying to hear to understand the drama in mouths moving, but knowledge is subtitled, vocalized reading-transmission.
With closed eyes, certain phrases translate with the life of a match in a cave – silence: dumb: 바보 a frustrated father asked of me, are you silence?
I let my stare speak, let the space between them carry my shame, give it room to take shape into blame becomes -less what felt like soul rising through my chest into a cough where defeat is sickness is language: mucus to throw away, always letting out. |