Standing Close
by Ki Sa In
Her bent back collects newspapers and cardboard boxes
Her work pants are loose on her shrunken body
When a car enters the alley, she stands close to the side.
With her small cart which is her only flesh and blood
Standing close in solitude
Like a spider on a dirty cement wall
Like an old sting ray at the bottom of a water tank.
Standing low and close to a gray wall.
Once the car passes, the grandmother who was like crinkled paper
Slowly straightens out again.
The cart’s wheels follow her at her heels like young goats.
If I think about the worn out television that will turn on in that room
If I think about the tilted sink, pots, and pans
And the bent back that will stand in front of it.
I choke up.
If I think about the rag in the corner which she has probably wrung out.
