flowery wine-scented air rises from cotton
swabs that have cleaned so many arms.
now they are little litter-poppies
loitering about the needle and syringe.
“The FDA/ has warned/ against/
it is a redness that fills the needle
as it creeps up towards the fat plastic
pack. the blood is stagnant but the red
seeps out and hurts my eyes strangely.
transfusing/ blood plasma/ a rejuvenating/
the pain of seeing red makes my eyes
turn away to a mousetrap in the corner
a black plastic jaw to guillotine
hypothetical mice, there in the white corner
procedure/ without enough/ animal testing/
to make life better.
to make life better.”
Sang Yun Jee is a South Korean high school student who at one point in time lived in California, but currently studies in the Philippines. He began to write seriously following his attendance of the Iowa Young Writers’ Studio as a sophomore, and his works have since been recognized by Indolent Books, Eunoia Review, and Aerie International, among other places. They have also been recognized by the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards on the national level. His works are heavily riddled with themes of identity, nature, and secular pessimism. In his spare time, he enjoys reading works of varying literary merit, attempting to sleep, and contemplating the complex nature of teenage hormonal angst.