Goshiwon, Day 967
By Leb Mofsky
Can it be true, as many days as that?
I hadn’t started counting till today,
but roughly thought it in the 800s,
not a month or so from … one thousand.
At any rate, Day 1, Day 2, they all
start early here. By five or six, the sun
has risen high enough to shine above
the sheets of cardboard wedged between the panes,
expressly there to block the light, but not
tall enough to block it out completely.
A six-inch gap remains, with nothing but
a light green curtain, thin as gossamer,
to stand sentry, and stop the early dawn’s
attack. False, treacherous curtain! I lie
there helpless, forced to hide beneath the sheets,
while you high-five the sun as it passes
through in full parade. But no, the sun, too,
as if it knew to what weakness it owes
its victory, is turned a mournful, sick green.
The world of dreams dissolves. Enough. I rise.
Out, the ear plugs. Off, the radio set
to 88 FM. White noise, to block
my neighbor’s slamming door at 6 a.m.
You see, the sun is not my only foe.
After 967 days,
have I not thought of every precaution?
Of course! But no more than anyone else
would have done in the same situation.
First things first. Rise, to greet the sun victorious.
I pull aside the light green curtain.
It opens right to left. Then the inner pane,
sliding smoothly. And finally a sheet
of cardboard, once a packing box for sweet
potatoes, now flattened out and fading.
Do you, too, use flattened packing boxes
as curtains? I am not poor, I swear it!
Ah, then, why do I go on like this? Why?
A friend of mine, code-named Arianna,
has told me many times that I should move.
‘이사 와,’ she says, to her neighborhood.
A better place, where streets are wide and straight,
the buildings tall, the restaurants, not cheap.
I know, I have been. I have paid the bill.
A better place. But oh, so far from work.
If I lived there, I would have to get up
an hour earlier to catch the bus,
and hope that I, or it, are not too late.
But you can see how much I value sleep.
An hour less, a truly bitter loss.
I fear I try your patience. Why should you
be forced to read about my sleeplessness?
Gentle reader, if ever a landlord
you become, be sure to put thick curtains
on the window. If you must go to work
at 6 a.m., go softly, with a thought
for those who can and want to get some rest.
Day 1000 will come, I cannot move
before. But pray that I get the resolve
to move soon after. Seeing the exact
day count has not done a little to help.