Set-Byul Moon
At night she sits tight like a tree
With five fruits still growing and
Shaking feeble limbs and leaves
About to wither
Feeling dry air mummifying her from inside
Letting three amber buttons with loose threads
She just took from her husband’s silk jacket
That she brought as a wedding gift for the groom
She takes part of things stolen back as she retrieves them
From her husband’s mistress
It was the only victory she can savor
Those amber buttons are big
Decorated with gold and silver stalks bearing them
It shines, showing off her noble heritage
One of three has a bug inside
Trapped in a tree’s sap, stuck there forever in time
The bug has watched everything–everything
Making the stone more precious and genuine
Is it a mosquito or a fly? Did it know when its legs were dipped
When couldn’t it move? Does it preserve a soul as well as body?
She clenches them and cries quietly in dire serenity
Bitter anguish hardens her like the honey-colored resin
Shielding the woman’s pride and sorrow