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."