Snowwhite
— -The Watermelon Without a Witch
Moonlit night.
Clouds piled high,
one upon another.
A wet wind
kneads the neighbor’s laundry,
still hanging outside.
Afraid of waking the neighborhood,
I pull the window shut.
Back and forth
between bedroom and bathroom,
swinging like a pendulum,
wrestling with nausea.
A bite of watermelon,
heavy with greed,
one I should have thrown away,
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turns body and mind
into a torture chamber.
The patient
I ought to be caring for
happens
to have my face.
Once the vomiting stops,
I catch my breath,
only to find
a headache sticking out its tongue.
Perhaps today
is simply one of those days.
The regret
that carried thirst
all the way to dehydration,
and my elder sister’s scolding,
wait just outside the door.
