by Chiwan Choi
ashes of a birth misdirected, speak to me as
winter embraces and fingers trace the outline
of light like a rough face dimpled by shame.
in my dreams i caught the arrows and other storms
hoping to find her exhales.
but there were only beasts sheltered in the folds of this wind.
speak to me, daughter.
there has been too much silence.
there has been too much forgetting.