Fractured Memories by Minkyu Shim (14, South Korea)

Over the roads in front of the Homigot,
                                                                the air is spiced with miyeok. The gritty 
breath of autumn bends through the roar
                                                                -ing morning as silver quilts of clouds over 
the fallen foliage and withered flowers, 
                                                                drift through the blue in the sky – graying ​

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days by the high power poles along the rails 
                                                                of Pohang Station, the gleaming strips 
of metal folding with rust and damp 
                                                                tatters of ginkgo leaves. The boy with his     
mouth and nose plastered with a corru-
                                                                gated white mask stands alone and waits. 
Across him another train flits through
                                                                beside the knee-high reed field and 
over the high power poles, swallows
                                                                cut through the sky. The mountain’s 
rocky top stretches its shadows on the
                                                                streets. Looking up at the high signboard 
backlighted by the sun, the boy wipes off 
                                                                the prolonged tails of dust on his pants
and steps on the silver-metaled entrance 
                                                                stairs of the KTX – Seoul in his mind. 
The fractured images of abandoned parks 
                                                                and shadowed roads of the city would 
hide themselves under the layers 
                                                                of black and white masks. 

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