She Wants to Be a Woman

She is called Sophia.
No matter how thick her lips
is rouged with wisdom just like her name,
even though her whole life is given to God,
and her passion of feminism is being hidden in her breasts,
she wishes to be a woman in her heart?
Then her skin-deep body would follow.
That’s why she said to ordinary women
that sacred and sexual didn’t hate each other.
If she were a virgin, I would be happy but disappointed.
If she weren’t a virgin, I would be bitter but relieved.
Well, how could I pluck a star?
The only thing I could do is to fly
my kite high up in the sky
toward her bosom
that is yearning for being a woman?
Let her be,
if she looks soaked deep in sorrow.

A Kite

A kite floating way high up in the winter sky
and looking down upon the world; I am looking
up the bird feeling pain in my neck. Unlike
no-name obscure birds flying in a flock and
a pair of geese singing love songs by filling
up the sky with eardrum-splitting noise, the
kite looks lonely but so elegant and splendid
Probably the kite is not alone and may have
kids to feed or boy/girl friends are floating
somewhere else. Just like a golfer standing
alone and gazing at the invisible hole in a
green, it is alone even though it is not alone.
I hope I am not its food since I am not dead
yet. Just like that kite, I am looking down at
this world all alone and elegantly, but I am not
looking for dead meat. Yeah, after I eat fresh
living meat, I will be dead and will be the food
of the kite. I’ve come to know that why the kite
is hovering over my head. I might close my life
as a dinner of that kite, but I wish I could eat
the flesh and drink the blood of the fresh
living meat I’ve been yearning for. My elegant
and grandiose floating high up in the sky could
attract the refreshing breathing meat. It’s
little wonder the kite is a he.