ESTHER KIM


Esther Kim is a sophomore currently attending the Holton-Arms School. She was first
introduced to poetry in the fifth grade. Since then, poetry has changed the way she
views herself and especially the world around her. She has been recognized by Teen Ink,
Scholastic Writing Awards, and more.






bada

i. bada
is ocean,
is two hands pressed
tightly pinky to pinky,

is the sympathetic groan
of a quiet and cracked home


ii. umma and abba
bring us in to quell what storms
have flooded our floors

when the waters die down
in the black hours of november
umma says,
don't be a housewife.
she tells me she's twenty
years too old for her skin,
tells me she doesn't
have any hair on her legs
and hands


iii. in korea
on a day like this,
umma says,
you and i'd be sleeping
at hami's house

away

held in the palms of
a mustard moon






persimmons

I nibbled on exquisite as if it were
persimmons, flossing out the little
bits that held on and saving its
caramel for a tale...

There were always author's teas at
the old school by the winding roads.
I'd listen to the whir of the radiator
as faraway letters dazzled on my
cheeks, rolled off with its vines
spilling twirling curling out. They
danced on unperforated notebook pages,
pencil marks frivolous and frilly.

I clutched this English like talismans,
tasted its sweet between teeth and
sat on checkered mat by lamplight,
where spineless tongue and—where
we—fit in the breath of
quiet serendipity, of
radiator whirs, of
persimmons,

and listened.



Back to Front.