When I was born,
he whispered to me sweetly
about my future.
He said to get married
well,
I needed to peel an apple
perfectly
in one
go.
Jokingly, it was first said.
Tauntingly it was second said.
By the third time, sternly it was told.
It was sometime after the 98th but
before the 99th
time did those words slither
down my indifferent ear
The blade clung to
my hand
it seemed sacrilegious to not nick
the red blushing
skin
carving it of its shell,
bare.
So I begin to peel.
And peel.
And peel.
And peel.
And peel.
Only after the 46th skin
was severed, a perfect skinning
failed
did I realize he
had won.
He may be withering away,
his sickly nails
gripping at his last shreds of vitality,
the lid on his urn nearly
shut,
silenced
by his offspring,
the younger
she, and
his offspring’s offspring,
the baby
they,
but
his words still vibrated
in my mind.
I drank a glass of
apple
soju.
Cheers.
사과를 예쁘게 깎으면 시집을 잘 간다.
There’s a saying in Korean, if a woman peels an apple perfectly in one go, that woman will get married well (사과를 예쁘게 깎으면 시집을 잘 간다). Mom, I can get married now is performance piece about this old saying that lives two lives as an installation and video piece.
For access to the film in the installation, please contact me via email or through direct messaging.
