Some day in the future, we are shooting a documentary. We are in the middle of
filming an organ farm project that will provide organs for an ego that will live forever.
I’m the most beautiful actress in the cast. This thought helps me a great deal with my
acting. I’m raised to be your heart. I’m raised to be your lungs. I’m raised to be your
skin. I’m raised to be your gall bladder. Furthermore, I’m raised to be your brain. That
is to say, I keep an eye on you then quickly swap your eyes with mine. As I smile, I
quickly switch your liver with my fresh liver. You never die since you replace your
organs endlessly. In other words, it helps tremendously, in this line of work, that I’m
a beautiful actress. I’m raised to be your sorrow, your tears, your anxiety, your fear,
your defect. At times I’ve asked you Do you want to be the most bored person in
the world without me? But you raise me to have me become you. Yes, yes, Master.
I imagine that day when my heart goes to greet you, the day when I become you
completely. But as lumpy flesh, would I be able to recognize my face? You come
wearing a green fluorescent vest and tie my limbs to drag me. You are my liver, you
are my kidneys, you are my heart, you are my eyes, you are my skin, no matter how
much I wail, you drag me away not knowing that I am you. You occasionally shove
a wooden club into me as you drag me. You need to be jailed for pig surveillance
blasphemy embezzlement torture threat. You say You cancer-ridden lump of meat as
you shove me into a tiny sty.

Poems by Kim Hyesoon reprinted with permission from Action Books, Indiana, US.