College Dollhouse, 1996

this house swells. abundant with the
sweetness of kids. on damp days

we miss our mothers & lack fruit.
i love you with indica,

with gluttony, suspending us
on the sunday couch.

still, that tropic
of rot: we bitter our lips

& sicken of each other.
sedated by loneliness

we’re all fucking sad in our own rooms.

make love
to mediocre people. emerge

to rewind the battered
love stories of our parents in the kitchen light.

delight in the everyday grief
that we are so close. know

that we will lift the wax off
the pretty hours of school,

the pretty drugs,
pretty cheap rent,

the washing machine
being loaded right outside my bedroom door.

Haro Lee lives in South Korea with her grandmother. Her poems appear or are forthcoming in Michigan Quarterly Review, Zone 3 Press, The Offing, and elsewhere. She was the recipient of Epiphany Magazine’s Breakout 8 Writers Prize. You can find her @pilnyeosdaughter.

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