There is a grey sculpture on the gutter // Dolls on the branches of a sonamu tree
by Soheon Lee
There is a grey sculpture on the gutter
Today, your invisible armor will crack like glass and the building turns concrete.
I remember praying for the sky to sink until we could gently dent the moon into sculptures. I had asked have you seen two moons before?
but you didn’t reply and made an oval with your small fingers. The dark hanbok you wore looked so forlorn
so I stuck grass on the sleeves and ricecake on your head from Chuseok. I left for a while before
coming back to the brambled soil to see only the ricecake infested in ants inside a grassy coffin.
Today, I wish you become lost behind houses and shops where your clothes turn into shadows that drape across my rooftop.
Dolls on the branches of a sonamu tree
I would like to go and watch a puppeteer behind the wooden frames and velvet curtains and see their faces which will get devoured into bits by the dark.
I would like to steal one of the dolls that have loose string on their smiles, their color overlapping with the sun that has decided to parch the small clothing until its sleeves upturn.
I would like to remember the yarn hair of the doll to that of eomma’s who stared at my face as if it was alabaster that had two dots for a face and its button eyes like my mother.
I would like to seal the doll in a cave where its back will grow hairs like needles and their dresses torn and stained by the dirt. I would like to find the doll again, and study its frail arms and legs that dangle and point downwards, its fabric heart hiding like its treasure.