Glassblowing
By Jaeyun Yoo
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to blow glass means
molten bodies blinking like fireflies in a jar it means kissing the pipe until air wobbles into yolk of lava it means breath is sculpted holds flower after flower a vessel smooth as the curves of a woman carrying child EarthwormsBy Jaeyun Yoo
April showers
slip fever in the air tulips raise green fists to be struck by sunlight mountains shed snow like fleece worms stagger out of clay cribs their silken torsos shimmying until the end. That is how you died shimmering in a thin garbage bag in a damp downtown alley. You believed somebody will spot stragglers on concrete lift them to soft safe grass. Today, the tulips have bloomed palms unclasping prayers the mountains now clad in dark ferns and rivulets.
By Jaeyun Yoo
 Jaeyun Yoo is a Korean-Canadian poet and psychiatrist living on the unceded territories of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh peoples, also known as Vancouver. Her works have appeared in Prairie Fire, Grain, Contemporary Verse 2, EVENT, Ricepaper and others. @jaeyunwrites on Twitter.
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