amazon

By Haeun Kim

the door dings. slipped beneath is a plastic
package. a thin layer of film stretches around fabric,
sealed at the edges as if pressed with an iron. 
you will press the cloth inside with an iron, 
heat hissing as it seeps inside stitches. the fabric 
sighs, wilts, and sucuumbs at last. it melds with 
your fingers, molting as if you are shedding flesh. 
the neck of the shirt swallows you, fabric rippling 
around your torso as you move. and you move, 
because you need the iron now. you need to iron 
your shirt-skin. you hold the iron in your hand,
smoke wheezing into your eyes, and you click-
click-click and wait, coughing, until you hear
the door ding again. and slipped beneath it is a
plastic package. a handprint seared into the iron.
alternatively, the iron imprinted into your hand.
you tear the plastic away like an animal might
to a carcass. the door dings and dings and dings.
you are starving.

Haeun (Regina) Kim is a student writer from Seoul, South Korea. An alumna of the Adroit Journal Summer Mentorship, the Sewanee Young Writers’ Conference, and the Sunhouse Summer Writing Mentorship, she has been recognized by Bennington College, the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers, River of Words, and more. Her writing has been published or is forthcoming in Rust and Moth, Stone Soup, and The Galway Review, among others. An editor at Polyphony Lit, she serves as the founder of MISO-JIEUM. When not writing, she can be found painting in an art studio or struggling through amateur ballet.