for J.

On the small screen, I watch lover boy

fall for Seoul city girls he’s never

met. One moment, they live in opposite

universes and in the next, they trade

glasses of champagne for confessions.

I tell myself this only happens in

the movies but still move to Seoul with

suitcases full of satin dresses, pearl

necklaces, partially-finished love letters.

Sashaying into a bar, I see dozens of

lover boys labeled on display only. Still,

I introduce myself as Korean girl.

Did I mention we’ve never met before?

He says I look elegant and over-

polished, another way of telling me

you shouldn’t be here. Later that

night, I google what to expect when

dating Koreans: mixtape albums

heartbreaks, endings unlike the ones

in movie scripts. I dream of lover

boy but it turns into a nightmare in

which I am exiled from my own

desires. He will only love my silvered

reflection on the screen, unfaced.

___

BIO: Jessica Kim is a disabled poet from California. A two-time 2021 Pushcart nominee, her work appears or is forthcoming in Wildness Journal, Diode Poetry Journal, Cosmonauts Avenue, Grain Magazine, Longleaf Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, and more. She is the founding editor of The Lumiere Review and edits for several other literary magazines. Find her at www.jessicakimwrites.weebly.com and @jessiicable.