top of page

Yoonsuh Kim

​

Grandfather as a Foot Binder

 

My grandfather eats the eyeball first, pachinko pearl

pinballed by a fish-oiled epiglottis, throat coaxing

shadows into waves. His gaping mouth sits stagnant

 

in the living room, whispers avian, infantile, molars

tilted inward. I bow reed-like, touch him head-to-head,

avoid his tonsils fish-bone needled, cartilage ulcered

 

into a swollen stomach, I am blind until he swallows.

The man at the grocery shouts fishmonger, fingers molting

feathered. Eyes elliptical, he lifts two scaled stomachs

 

swollen to sip the sky. Against my eyelids, veins burnt

bright, I see him. Pale neck swaying, silver tongues

slip down esophagus. Spit-slick breath arcing over

 

my shoulders, when I peel my lids unfolded, the sun

turns its eyes away. Under half-light, he descales, fingers

tip-toed across fish ripped spineless. Bloated body floats

 

in graying water, corpselike, a time-smoothed skipping stone.

Watch my grandfather eat, teeth cartilage cordoned, muted

pupil projecting, these fish taste of ignorance. Years ago,

 

my grandfather awoke, dreaming of China

 aching tongue bitten raw, metallic taste

weighted coin-like, shoulders migration-stretched, throat fixed

 

to gulp gold. But some birds are built to stand native.

Here, herons are water-moored, and fish means prosperity

in China, anyway. Boy, consume a woman lily-footed,

 

fishtail standing. Stabbed through pupil and stomached whole,

married with the promise to only run as far as birds can fly. Next

August, a man will walk his legs, whittled skeletal, across my retina.

 

When I smile at him, he smiles back, gums bare, molars flashing,

bone flossed. The light reflects off my vertebrae until I melt

scaled. Femurs folded A-frame, he whistles heron. Girl, do you know

 

how to run? Scrawled on the co-ed bathroom wall: to screw is to

swallow. So we lay, embalmed fish leather, twinned tails bloating.

fins splaying kites across market ice, summer sun harpooned,  

 

                                                                                                                      headless, blind at consumption.

​

​

​

​

Yoonsuh Kim is a poet based in New York. Her work has been recognized by Hollins University, Smith College, and others. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Rigorous Magazine, Cargoes, and others.

© Bicoastal Review 2025. All rights reserved.

bottom of page