Statistics by Rae Kim

Curtain of warm light:
For my last act, I am graceful
The bones in my hands
All breeze and water.

In a courtyard outside,
I can hear a fountain playing
Green seeping under the quiet paths,
This is blitz. This is my thin reedy voice

Making a cut through the emptiness.
Whistling was always private,
Slipping down in the carpet
My hair fans out and I am warm

Under warm breeze. I split fleas
Under my nails. I split the sun crashing
Under the fog with my arm. I’m
Under the Sistine ceiling and its infinity.