Eulogy for Our 처녀귀신 Selves Every 28 Days
Su Cho | Poetry
Vine-ripe tomatoes, grenadine filled
water balloons, torn pomegranates—
we squeeze these offerings between
our thighs. We hold a trial, all of us
naked, to see who can have the realest
period. If we attend, we are accustomed
to our gwishin lives, come to terms
with why we’re here, how we died
too pure, and the youngest of the ghostly
bunch perform the best—learning
to clutch their lower stomachs,
press a palm against their lower back.
Moan in pain. One dipped crumpled
newspaper bits into red paint and glue—
We grasp each other’s hands and scream
until one of them cuts herself,
stopping at the sight of real blood.
This doesn’t hurt one bit, she sighs.
The rest of them follow, are ecstatic.
Bless this holy day, one wails.
Shut the fuck up, another scoffs and like that the spell breaks
and we clean the floors as if nothing ever happened.
Su Cho is the author of The Symmetry of Fish (Penguin 2022) which won the 2021 National Poetry Series and was featured in the New York Times Book Review, NPR, and Roxane Gay’s Favorite Books. Her work has been anthologized in Best American Poetry, Best New Poets, and They Rise Like a Wave: An Anthology of Asian American Women Poets. Born in South Korea and raised in Indiana, she currently resides in South Carolina where she is an assistant professor at Clemson University. She is working on her second poetry book as well as an essay collection about ghosts and growing up in the Midwest.