The Tea Girl from North Korea

 



Lips speak vintage ginseng,
and eyes cry for the affection
of annual strangers

Much different from the intangible
mandibles of dust mites,
so much happier, even,

Than ghost towns
of wooden boys and girls,
wishing to be real, upon a star.

So you imagine a blue fairy,
and give her origami
to fold her own wings
and grant their every whim.