Somewhere across the ocean,
a woman looks through my eyes at her ruined body
and remembers me,
wonders what might have been
now that the world is a different place than 1986.
Maybe her heart rips in half again
as she goes to work in a textile factory.
Somewhere across the ocean,
a man clenches my jawline at his monthly wage
(less than I spend in a week)
and remembers me,
wonders what the woman with my eyes is doing now
before swallowing his failure like drunken sick
and clocking out of his factory.
Yesterday, I bought a teddy bear for my friend’s kid
because the tag said “made in Korea”
and somehow, that made me feel like it could have
some connection to whoever was sewing it together
in a factory across the ocean.
I doubt he’ll remember who gave it to him.
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