Poem: J.A. Pak


Today is the anniversary of my immigration. What I
like to call the Birth of Bleakness. The day I begin to
learn that life is an endless cycle of misery and
happiness is always an imagined aftertaste.
Immigration is how a child grows up unnaturally fast.
Turns mutant. Sacrifices are the mental state of
security as you watch your parents in binary mode:
coping / uncoping; coping / uncoping. Life comes at
you in confusing tidbits of kindness / unkindness. Life
is erratic, a scintillating scotoma with edges that melt
off the screen like cheese. August disintegrates and
September is the harvest of me that gets pickled &
brined, and now over-fermented in a murky liquid
that leaks.


J.A. Pak’s work has been published in Queen Mob’s Teahouse, Luna Luna, Joyland, Entropy, 7x7, etc. Come and visit her at Triple Eight Palace of Dreams & Happiness.

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