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POETRY

Hands

  • onJanuary 5, 2017
  • Vol.34 Winter 2016
  • bySeo Dong-Wook


Like two stamps overlapping on a tiny postcard
tightly I pull you in,
press my chest against your back,
place my fingers on your fingers.
Drawn by the gravity of the one another’s body
the iron particles in our bodies
start to pull in one direction.
Like that, one finger grows
heavy
and slowly traces the path of blood
of another fingertip, and there
is a spring that pulses.
The night starts frosting over.
The Milky Way dries up.
The stars one by one turn into desert.
Thump thump.
From the spring, warm water vibrates
and an Earth is born,
everything brightens.
If I keep my eyes closed:
through the trajectory of blood vessels
between these two bodies.
Thump thump.
Leaving a long trail behind
A planet travels back and forth.