From the corner of a flint stone,
night sparks flew.

Where the gunshot passed—
the scent of black dawn spreads.

A severed string,
a plucked fragment of time,
and what remains in my place—

a train,
quietly passing through,
shedding its sheen inward, ever inward.

{Before Series – 4]

© TaeHun Yoon, 4.24.1973