After Jeffrey McDaniel
Sick of the secrets that slide
under window sills,
knock on doors, the government
has outlawed eye contact.
No syrupy smile from the paper
doll waitress who leaves
the menu bruised. Flings herself
towards the man in the back
booth, numb.
The ghost of Mom’s look
twirling the phone cord.
Her candied laugh,
cherry lips.
The other line takes away
her sadness—guess
I couldn’t.
Dad no longer waits
in the driveway oiling
his tongue with rusty
music.
The last thing I remember:
long fingers of gas,
his fading Old Spice,
forehead wrinkles I ironed
with my scratchy fingers
Sometimes,
I wish someone
would see through,
empty.
Suhjung Kim is a poet and writer from Seoul, South Korea. Her poems have appeared in Young Writers Journal, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, Eunoia Review, and elsewhere. She writes for her school’s literary magazine, Kaleidoscope, and newspaper, The Tiger Times. She has attended writing workshops with Iowa Young Writers’ Studio and Kenyon Young Writers. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading books of all genres, listening to music, and swimming.