Elizabeth Kim

Elizabeth Kim is a doctoral candidate in English at Temple University. She also holds an MFA in Poetry from the Creative Writing Program at Rutgers University-Newark. Her poetry and prose have appeared in The Stillwater Review, Gesture, The Waiting Room Reader, and American Book Review.

A Supplication

One day, my poems will become

exactly what they imagine. I’ll write

this is a butterfly trapped in amber,

sealed while still in flight

then watch the page glow,

orange light filling the room.

But for now, I’ll whisper a prayer I mean,

touch my forehead to the carpet

and say this is me as a temple.

This is as empty as I come.

Charm

Rather than

what

is not,

why not state

what is:

the finches

gather by

your feet

only 

because

you have

scattered

the seeds.

Take This Cup

Today it may be made of porcelain,

tomorrow: tin or hollowed gourd

or hands clenched tightly to hold the water.

Here are my hands. Here is my well.

What more do you require?

If Faith Is Not a Lack

of apprehension but that swift

winged thing between my closed eyes

and your turned back, and if

the syntax between palm and palm

comprise the grammar of holy impulse,

may I know these by touch—

like the tasseled corner of a cloak,

like the silent “p” in “psalm.”