Day Twelve
A black, plump bird, as big as you, was at the door. You got up and took off your nightgown and put on a black outfit. You had a hunch that you were about to receive a message. You were skinny, but the bird was chubby. In real life, or perhaps in your dream, you heard a knocking at the window. You opened the window, but there was no one. You only saw something trying to stand up, like a shadow flittering in the wind, something that had lived stuck to the ground its entire life. As you opened the door and stepped into the convenience store, something tugged at your ankle. A hand came up swiftly like a burp from a dark pit. You heard a familiar voice: Let's go, let's go to the unknown place, deepest place, bottom of the bottom. You were afraid that an unknown face might appear in the toilet water, in the mirror. You wondered whether terror comes before sorrow. You shouted into the receiver, Don't bother calling if you're not going to come! There was someone listening at the other end. Once there was a lunar eclipse and, at the moment of the full eclipse, the doors of the wardrobe opened wide then someone crawled out saying: Let's go let's go. Startled, you screamed, and cold energy embraced you. The 24-hour movie theater had gone bust, yet yet felt as if you were standing in the middle of a field where films show non-stop, and your father called the funeral parlor and requested a coffin made of limestone instead of wood. That way water won't get in, bugs won't get in, so it'll stay nice and dry, Father said. You were sitting at the dining table, but you couldn't feel your body as if you'd stepped out of a film. Even though you chewed loudly, none of it felt real. What more can I eat? When you turned around, there was nothing on the table.
Do you want to be a friendly corpse?
Do you want to be a scary corpse?
Do you want to become silk that ghosts kiss?
Do you want to become a sack that ghosts kick?
Every, every day is the eve of death
The orator strikes his palm down on the table
-Kim Hyesoon
Translated by Don Mee Choi
