as I know
all mothers must, this pain
becomes an even-handed story
told over gin, yolk,
and crushed rose,
wild abandonment—Sara, may I call you that?
you weren’t mindless.
We’re both
those
wild
flowers in Yeonggwang—it’s the part of the country
our people can’t find
because
cherry blossoms
are everywhere.
But I grow easily.