Something about rain and corn gone soft
makes me want to cry.
I am no longer a girl I confide in each ear
of corn, mouth
a warm halo of wax. Someday the rain will wash
along with everything that burned.
But say we become candles instead, smoke
signals for the living. I tuck the last of myself
into a bed
of yellow, practicing burial. Someday the new
homeowners will see a graveyard
of corn & think how sweet. Smell burning hair
where I vanished
under the earth.
Nicole Hur is a Korean-American writer currently based in Seoul, South Korea. She is the founder and editor-in-chief of The Hanok Review, a literary magazine devoted to Korean poets and poetry. Although she enjoys experimenting with various literary genres, she spends most of her days on poetry. Her poems are inspired by her hometown where food and family play a dominant role in daily life. You can find her on twitter @nhurwords.