Postcard to dan — By Stephen Kim

artwork by Lori Fuller

I thought of you at the top of Haleakala, the dormant volcano in east Maui, summit towering above the clouds. It’s so otherworldly inside the crater. Some hills the color of rust, others gray speckled with beige, and others still the mildest spring green – my own shoes looked as if dusted with turmeric as I plodded through the sands and winds, into the volcano’s mouth while wondering if my aching feet, with precocious arthritis, could handle the trail ahead. Dan, I slipped when the sand underneath me shifted, my breath hitched, and it felt for a moment like quicksilver was dripping down my spine. I remembered that sensation from when we romped on the playground as kids, diving off jungle gyms into piles of leaves and wood chips. But now I’m shrouding myself in disappointment when I’m writing to rekindle something akin to our shared childhood. Anyway, what I most want to say, among other things, is that you taught me how to chase exhilaration and I miss you.

Stephen K. Kim (he/him) is a queer Korean American writer and college educator in upstate New York. He enjoys spending time with his husband and his cat. His poems appear or are forthcoming in Ghost City Review, Fifth Wheel Press, and elsewhere. He can be found online @skimperil.