White Milk
Allison Cho
A piece of white sky tumbled on its foot and fell into my jar, flooding with milk
It was for my morning breakfast, nothing but plain white milk
It will fill my stomach with such nothingness that demolished the feeling of hunger
Conquered my flat stomach, wearing tight skin with coldness
And with wet kisses like the ones from toddlers with open-mouth
It innocently numbed me
naively confined me
in the glass jar of moment
I don't want to get out
don't slip off
don't be exiled
But one other morning
A piece of me spilled from my jar of heart
It fell into a bowl of nothingness
This time, it is full of air
Thin acute feeling of Deja Vu
Like the cracking sound of a hinged door
Crack crack crack
Another jar, another stomach, another breakfast
When is tomorrow and when will it come?
A voice asks, "Are you asleep?"
And I murmur
not with my mouth
but a piece of me lying somewhere in the dark answers instead
"Sleep or no sleep, eyes opened or closed. Tomorrow is eternally exiled."
