Sharpened scissors trim frayed corners,
Fitting into yesteryears,
Pasting moments—
Shades of Korean, German, English.
Memory words bloom,
No lightning strikes silent “e”s.
Scissors can’t cut language stone
Reforming like ebb and tide.
I keep pasting—
Fractions to whole to pieces.
Blue keeps bleeding.
Do not peel the corners
Where winters sleep.
Even scissors rest.
When are we whole?
When are we fractions?
Poem by Yenna Yi
Image by ChatGPT
Ring of Fire 
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