Monica Youn Poems

It was hardly a high-tech operation, stealing The Scream.
That we know for certain, and what was left behind-
...

Where was it that we went that night?
That long, low building: floodlights
...

Waking
on the train, I thought
...

(she opens the door)
(he is twelve inches
...

When you have left me
the sky drains of color
...

To section off
is to intensify,
...

Angels are unthinkable
in hot weather
...

The clockwork saguaros sprout extra faces like planaria stroked by
a razor. Chug
...

Then one day she noticed the forest had begun to bleed into her waking life.
There were curved metal plates on the trees to see around corners.
...

A gauze bandage wraps the land
and is unwound, stained orange with sulfates.
...