Draughts of moist air move through Seoul,
and the whales shadow rooftops, moaning.
Couples slouch deeply in plastic blue chairs,
tipping beers and stirring bowls
of hot noodles. Everyone is laughing
and lonely. Someone opens his mouth
to speak from the heart
and his soul stops and fumbles, ashamed.
Shafts of white streetlight spill onto the streets,
jostling through darkness for space.
From church, a flock of wild prayers
beat their wings at the dun sky.
Somewhere, a young girl with a gentle mouth
studies till blood drops from her eyes.
I lay a blank sheet on the flat of your stomach
and write this so quickly it tears:
do you see, my hand trembles, it trembles.
It takes all the green loveliness
of sleepwalking in dreams
to forget what it means to be lonely.
It takes endless walks in the loosening dusk
to remember: the whole world is lonely.