Outside the light show that follows her everywhere presses itself against her windows urgent it is pertinent that though the depth of field remain shallow we do not fuss about her the astonishing woman-child lying acute beside her bed wreathed by sorrow hollowed by washes of colour trembling hands pressed against lips choking
She is a far-cry from the brown women adorned in hanbok vests large sparkling skirts plastic garlands frolicking in palace fields
Or redolent in streetlight sheen the children who are adorned by light that squeal even as night sinks Daegu their abandon leaps presses itself too against her windows muffles out her whimpers she is to them all of them a creature of myth a faraway-thing not even in the background
In the morning she tries to blink the world into a kind of order holds it briefly soon loses steam sleeplessness has her seeing double again she pleads to herself coaxes this way she can have two of everything and the blueberries might multiply and the hips widen and her lovers’ hands be everywhere-everywhere desire too might double into entendre so that when she thinks touch instead of the live wire yourself follows instead of yourself into extinction him no clean lines needed only clinging to a body with one hand a mound of oblong tablets with another dry swallowing the day thirsting for hope one day one day the world will be beautiful bearable
Manthipe Moila is a 29-year-old poet from Johannesburg, South Africa. She holds a degree in English Literature, and in her university days was published in various online South African journals such as Ja., Aerodrome and Type/Cast. She has recently been published in the New Contrast 202 (2023) issue. She is currently based in Seoul, South Korea.