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Corn

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

us away—

                      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

beneath petrichor

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.