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.