Wine cup with ear handles, 15th century

Hyejung Kook

The shape plain, its white glaze pocked

and pitted, brown touching the edges.

A slight indentation inflects the curve

just beneath the mouth, and I can see

the shape of the potter’s hands, pressing

then releasing the clay. I can feel how

my fingers would fit through the handles

and the cup would settle into my palms.  

I’d offer wine during jesa, the ancestral rites,

never mind that I’m not a son, then bow,

left hand over right, knees and forehead

and palms pressing into the floor, then

rising and falling and rising again,

my heart aching--I feel it all, looking

at a white cup I will never touch.

 

Hyejung Kook’s poetry has most recently appeared or is forthcoming in Hyphen Magazine, The Indianapolis Review, Prairie Schooner, Pleiades, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and wildness, Other works include an essay in The Critical Flame and Flight, a chamber opera libretto. She is a Fulbright grantee and a Kundiman fellow.

Read more poems by Hyejung Kook here →