Elane Kim
Chromatography
Never look for your reflection in the spine
of the city. You will find nothing but blood
in its sewers & rusted mouths in its graves.
A body measures how much it has bled
by how well it remembers the rupture. I can't
tell you how a body recovers, or what it buries
to forget. I can only show you the cracks
in my mother’s hands: the way they have
cleaved into her skin & burrowed. This is how
the city whittles skin into skeleton under
the cover of smog. This is how you forget:
first a body, then its bones. Someday
you may realize that a mother’s curved spine
is the home this city never gave you.
That you have been mistaking mirrors
for homes all this time. That your
mouth is waiting under bedrock, buried.
of the city. You will find nothing but blood
in its sewers & rusted mouths in its graves.
A body measures how much it has bled
by how well it remembers the rupture. I can't
tell you how a body recovers, or what it buries
to forget. I can only show you the cracks
in my mother’s hands: the way they have
cleaved into her skin & burrowed. This is how
the city whittles skin into skeleton under
the cover of smog. This is how you forget:
first a body, then its bones. Someday
you may realize that a mother’s curved spine
is the home this city never gave you.
That you have been mistaking mirrors
for homes all this time. That your
mouth is waiting under bedrock, buried.
Biography
Elane Kim (she/her) is a high school student based in California. The editor-in-chief of Gaia Lit, she enjoys chemistry and rainy days. Her writing has been recognized by the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers, and can be found in Rust + Moth and Vagabond City Lit, among others. She is very happy to meet you!
