Haesong Kwon
Evangelical Christians with Advanced Degrees
Evangelical Christians
with advanced degrees
dine in primitive huts
with the natives. They
contract malaria and sing
hymns. They can spot a ditch,
life-sized, from a distance. “It is
a giant inverted cupcake,” one
says. “It is lined with the offshoots
of the latest drought,” says
another. “Thatched,” the third
explained, “to this here hard dirt
that protects us.” A flat basket
of yams and papaya along
with the cool, cooked
breeze began
to approach us.
Province
Bodhisattvas have long hair in her art.
Maybe the monk who aches does not want to be a person.
We cross the overpass our fathers built.
Irregular overpass finished by tired farmers.
Restaurant
Page by page
his plate
burns
to a glowing
breathing. Crow
crow
crow by the green
dumpster.
(Once a slim
waiter
always a slim
waiter.)
I learn
that warmth
like
a chore
is best
left alone.