three poems

Haesong Kwon

Dark Room 125

Sewer needs to be flushed. Two open trays of developer and fixer on the table.
Spilled fixer with footprints on floor.

Darkroom to 127: sewer is the same source.

Dying hospital home for young and old alike.

Let me explain: you help people

because you want to see your daughter.

You can smell her inexpensive perfume. That’s when you knew

she was with you. “Why didn’t I get her those hundred-dollar

perfumes that I get for my girlfriends.” Throughout your sleep journey

and twisting about.

It’s not that I dislike Tim McGraw.

Guy downstairs is playing him too loud.

I could say a word.

I’ve seen him in a tank top

holding an entire child in one arm

and a car seat with baby in another.

This room I’m in is vibrating.

I can knock on his door.

He has two vehicles, a white van

and a blue Dodge Charger.

When I first came to America, I didn’t know how to speak English.

I learned it watching Menace II Society.

The English spoken in the film aligns with my social, cultural and economic location.

That is just the truth, no matter the failures I’ve accomplished.

“I feel sorry for your mother.” I live in aspirational truths.

Not addicted to reality or even verisimilitude.

I’ve been to the meeting of the frog, toad and newt.

Let me stop lying. I only heard about the summit.