by Suchoon Mo

Cremation

first snow on the ground
I cremate dead wood
in a cast iron stove

faded memories of many summers gone by
soar to the gray sky through the chimney

East and West

she goes east
following a star

I go west
followed by the same star

I don’t get it
what kind of star is that?

Time to Come Home

the last train did not leave
it was many years ago

today the bullet riddled engine rests
rusting in mute silence

why are you still waiting
alone in this empty station?

you died here that day
don’t you remember?

it is time for you to come home