by Bo Hee Moon
In an interview to search for my birth family—
where would I like to go in my free time
in South Korea, the interviewer asks.
I say, "Jeju Island." The interviewer suggests
I will loafe beachside and says it is improper
for me to only go by Bo. I should be called, Bo Hee.
But I would like to see the fairy pitta and a photograph
of my birth mother. I ask to delay the trip until June
so I can finish the school year. The birth family search
goes on without me. Arriving back to the classroom,
a girl named after a wren points her hot glue gun.
Burning herself once by accident, she does not skulk.
Mountain pink and twilight spill over the collage.
A song spangles. Another teacher says, "You're a long way
from home"—the bell rings shortly. I chat with the girl,
the airy trill. We do not touch on Euclidean geometry
or the prickly poppies. "You're beautiful," the girl says,
and I know she is seeing something in herself. We marvel
at the glued beads, the aqua lyric on old cardboard.
Note: This poem includes and alters language from the Encyclopedia of Korean Folk Literature: Encyclopedia of Korean Folklore and Traditional Culture Vol. III by the National Folk Museum of Korea (South Korea) and by the Executive Director Chung Myung-sub (Director, Folk Research Division) with the English translation by Jung Ha-yun (Professor, Ewha Womans University).