Occupation
The soldiers are
hard at work,
building a house.
They hammer
bodies into the earth
like nails,
they paint the walls
with blood.
Inside, the doors
are locked, shut
like eyes of stone.
And the stairs
are icy, all flights
go down.
There is no floor,
only a roof,
where ash is falling —
dark snow,
a human snow,
thickly, blackly
falling.
Come, they say.
This house will
last forever.
You shall occupy it.
And you, and you —
Come, they say.
There is room
for everyone.
– Suji Kwock Kim (American poet, b 1969)
[daily log: walking, 4km; driving, 500km]