I’ve been told I have a thing
for drummers. And did
I mention poets. Boys with cowlicks
who cook on the line.
Orange hair dye,
blue non-stick pan. You look
like Cillian Murphy,
sometimes. I have a thing
for dancers, prayers, rhythm,
translations. For crystals, pothos,
Half-light. Today,
how I love my table
of raw wood, and the way
my rice cooker whistles
while it’s steaming my rice.
Max asks me what it means to be good,
and I tell him I’m always
trying. I keep a record of everything
I’ve ever loved, and the record
begins with light.
Katherine Oung is a writer living in Nashville, Tennessee. Their poems can be found or are forthcoming in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, fourteen poems, Sine Theta Magazine, and elsewhere. Their nonfiction writing can be found in The New York Times, The Nashville Scene, No Bells Magazine, and elsewhere. They enjoy film photography and ice cold Shiner Bock.