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Kiran Park

tithonus vs. the streetlight outside my window

tithonus was cursed to live, but i know how it ends all the way through 
and i have decided it is enough to be a soul in a forgiving body 
and nothing more. i only mean to say that i am no longer trying to write my life 
into something astonishing, and there is no astonishing way to say so. 
i’ve nearly run out of things to romanticize besides the hoping. and 
the feeling of the rain, of course. and the waking in the mornings 
and the sleeping in the evenings and the eating of ripe fruit and the 
kissing of the sky and the knowing how it ends all the way through, 
of course. these are the softest of days, when a streetlight in the snow
makes me want to write poems about love and i am content with all the living 
laid out in a glistening array between here and that quiet limit of the world. 
if there was some great enduring secret this would be it. i would take back 
everything i have ever whispered just to tell it to you. my lips to your ear 
and all the living laid out between. i only mean to say that i am not really 
some river or prayer but instead just some flesh and clumsy bone 
and a mouth that is not really full of words or something equally immortal 
but instead just some space that i want you to find. there is no pretty way to say that 
i know how it ends all the way through or to recognize that old ache of want 
when even a streetlight in the snow can find its way into a love poem. 
there is still something sacred about bathing in the glow of these ordinary things, 
i think. tithonus was the worst of the world. this streetlight could be the best. 
hold me between these soft bows of light, to the low hum of life 
and the spin of the earth. i only mean to say 
that we could make it so.

Biography

Kiran Park (she/her) is a junior in high school and a Korean-American poet with work in Interstellar Literary Review and Pollux Journal. You can find her on Instagram at @kiran.lpark.
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ISSN 2639-426X
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    • Serenity
    • Issue 17
    • The Audio Room
    • Issue 16
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    • Play It Again
    • Issue 13
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    • Hand to Mouth
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