Miscellaneous records on Korean poetry, culture, and more.

 Parrot                             By Jeong Hye-ryeong After the pet bird died, her parents told the daughter to throw away the cage. Unable to discard it, she placed the cage in a vacant nook of the apartment— a heart dwelling amidst the empty air of iron bars. Can one truly draw out the heart of a bird that is no longer there, or the feeling of reading a bird that has vanished? The daughter’s hand strokes the back of the absent bird, silently, endlessly stroking— and that stroking touch speaks in the bird’s stead. Is that why your hand came to resemble my back? A living thing— fluttering its injured wings, so fiercely alive. From somewhere comes the sound of a body slamming full-force against the iron bars. *Tak-tak, tuk-tuk*— the scent of dry twigs burning. With a tail of golden flame, circling the cage in desperate agitation, my wings followed me into my dreams. Burning— if it were to speak while burning, co...