The Warrior and The Lady

Her red dress is the “traditional woman’s,”

Ju-Hyun explains. The “lacquer is not good,”

Although the box feels satiny to my hand

And his humility a little proud,

For no American student will return

To show me what his country makes of wood.

Her face a featureless mask, mother of pearl,

The lady thanks me for guiding him through

His paper on medieval ideals

Of masculinity, his prose absolute

And simple as her devotion to role,

Sans article of mercy, still held as true.

He had to learn to soldier in Korea,

And here worked down in a grocery store

Where he had seen me shop for perilla

Leaves, keem, and pickled garlic. He never

Complained about the rules—to be a hero,

A physics student must pass literature.

Years later, still unsure what to put in

This book-sized jewelry box, I lean closer

To find the lady in red stands on a swing

Among the mountain pines, and behind her,

A tiny man in a tied blue jacket, turns

                        To watch where she sways, balanced, unaware.