And though I don't
mention it
to my mother
I haven't eaten
a full meal
in months
only apples
and cola lite
swallowed daily
straddling
a bench over
that iconic
Korean marble
the floor
of the cafeteria
where crunchy
roasted soybeans
can be purchased
with a baby blue
piece of cardboard
filled with 50s
and 100s struck
through by the ajjoshi
holding a sharpie
but I wasn't
eating them
the soybeans
or the sticky white rice
the curry or the
bibimbap
or the ham
no cheese
just my apple
which was delicious
but insufficient
glancing
at everyone else's
metal trays
in a space
where a few weeks
earlier in an attempt
to not fail
geometry and needing
to retrieve left behind
homework
needing to get
to my locker
in a locked
up school this
teacher's kid
wedged my body
sideways
through the bars hugging
the high school stairs
crept down
into dank
midnight haunted
cafeteria and crossed
stealthy in dappled darkness
my slick heart-thud
swallowed
so as not to alert
the guards I had removed
both my shoes
and while carrying
my footwear aloft
laid my foot gently down
not on cold marble
but on the warm
writhing body
of a large rat
one basic smoosh
its size and heft
comparable
to the rodents
which leapt
from drawers
and between sweaters
ran up and down
the pipes in the corner
of my dad's room
in the old sock factory
he grew up in
the alley
next to the Salvation Army
Training College
and post-Korean War
Seoul with its neck strands
stretched out to gaze up
at Ansan's peak
that mountain
would become
the mountain
I would sit on years later
his house was a magpie's
bound from the president's
Blue House
outside of which
he told me
when he was small
just a boy walking
back with pockets full
of candy from the ka-ge
pumpkin taffy
ready to grip fillings
he often saw
a beggar named Kohlmok
Taejang which means
King of the Alley
and this king
who would bang
his stick against
the belly of a bent
metal bowl
would like a metronome
ping his listen
listen listen
sing bae
ga
kop
pa
yo
which means
I'm hungry
and because
my dad told me
this story
and because he is
great at telling stories
bae
ga
kop
pa
yo
is one of a handful
of phrases I got
right on my Korean
vocab test
in the tenth grade
in my International school
while my own
bae rumbled
like a shook can
and I shifted
bent over the formica desk
to cradle
my empty bowl
my bae clanging guilty
as if it was filled
it's funny
but also sad
with several fat
furry bodies
mad to scavenge
the cafeteria
burst bellies
glut on salt
and soybean
and trail the girl
hollering
back
to where
she came
from

Kristina Erny

< Back | Next >

Table of Contents