There’s no such thing
as a classless society
even if the patriots sing
No blue blood aristocracy
but those trembled in needs
with no jobs, no money
are a class of their own
pushed and patronized
by the joy luck classes
chanting in Salem’s fervor,
“Beggars are losers!”
Tag: Poetry
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compartmentalized
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Merry Christmas
A Baby on the straw bed
In a stable on a cold night
Beneath the stars Bright
Brings joy to the world
And hope to the beholder. -
what the lotus knows
She walks toward the end
An inch closer, eyes closed;
Then one leap into the air
She vanishes into the water
Where no fate can stalk her
No care of the world anymore
But only the lotus flower
To forget the memories evermore.
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Music in my head
The gramophone
In the mind’s chamber
Plays the heart’s leitmotif;
The fugue of remorses
In staccatos of ifs
Flitting on the notes
Changing sharps, clefs
Hanging on the five staff
From lento, largo, adagio
To allegro, presto, prestissimo
All baroque without a coda -
Twilight heart
The sun chariot
Reaches the end
Of the day, west
Into the gate beyond
In the molten sky
Of blue, purple twilight
With the scarlet hues
Of the shadow of the sun
Reflecting on the glass heart. -
Polaris
Sirius is the South Star
The prettiest rainbow star
Glowing with the sun’s halo
The brightest, biggest Dog Star
Chasing the chariot of Apollo
From the sunrise to the sunset
Bringing the dog days of summer.
Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh 
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