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The traffic light changes

on the other side of the bus window.


The glass isn't wet today—

it's spring. I shudder


at the warmth, the idea

of turning. I saw you there


one last time, facing away—

I couldn't wave at you


with hands trapped

under a dead light pole.


What kind of hope

can I adjust my eyes to


now I'm leaving, headed

for another lifetime?


I just turned twenty

and time is not just palpable


but visible. A red signal

stares at us for a while—


but the light turns green

and we part.

Midnight Snow


I'd like to ignite the pictures

so your face flickers in my sigh.


When your ashes powder the city

I will, at last, accept winter—


swirls of memory

flashing through a street lamp.

Inkyoo Lee is from South Korea and studies philosophy in the UK. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Inflectionist Review, The Shore, Rust & Moth, and others. Find out more at

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