by Youngseo Lee
Youngseo Lee is eighteen, taking a gap year, and just vibing. She is newly based in Virginia, though she is from Seoul and Arizona. A 2020 National YoungArts Finalist in Creative Nonfiction and cat lady with no cats of her own, her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Entropy, Emory Lullwater Review, Hominum Journal, and more.
gimme love: for my class of 2020
after andrew kim / after joji / and in style, kind of after franny choi’s turing test series
// what’s your name
the manic pixie dream sidekick is every orbit of a cliché.
in the cross section of moonbeam + palm is a mourned
punked tire instead of love, hence the self-failed kick of a miracle looping
itself in spider rope. look: once materialized i am fleetingly pellucid
+ baringly gone. gimme gimme love gimme gimme
rocking chair soul + ropeburn of choice. to stay, to enter—
i’ve chewed my thumb raw into licorice waiting for crystallization
// and how long have you been here
gone; now; miracles bestowed upon calculators chafe for
desublimination. friction is what is lost. when i’m gone have i
been here? i’ve lived for myself and bitten cheek watching
grace, leap, descent, fall, hurl, sinkage, arms stretching from
cliché’s pits. we’ve dropped too many stars to orbit. + yet,
// and how have you liked it?
i am not only merely like a spaceship but am one scorching + we
are so close to gratitude. exit velocity at our
irreplaceable us, chalk dust dewing in our lungs + gravity universal
, watch miracle blink into another cliché. finally
i cough heat when we plummet, you say: isn’t it a miracle we’ve
been brought together isn’t it a miracle we’ve
tolerated each other isn’t it a miracle we’ve managed to resemble
love isn’t it a miracle how when you say it out loud
you sound like every other other. like we haven’t given up together—
how have i liked it?
like letting go would burn the fall.