Nib, And Pen Poem by Yonah Jeong

Our love, the bottle,
your pen,
Our love, the nib
We are writing the history of love
On white paper,
On this sick time
The ink bottle is the same
but the ink has dried up
Our love, the more it burns
It disappears
Our love, even though we know it,
it gets hotter by the day
Love rummages through the trash,
When we hear the dawn gunshots
Gives you breakfast
In a drunken stupor,
shivering in the cold, following the eyes of the homeless.
The nib is moving.
The ink is dwindling
before it dries up.
I have an event to write about.
There's something we all need to know and be outraged about.
That event is waiting for us.
There's something we need to know and be angry about
There is a case
waiting for us
The pen is
A poet is
The fingers are trembling
The event is coming
No, I don't know if it has passed.