Gyoza and Broken Hearts

Gyoza and Broken Hearts

Graduate school
to my right-leaning brain,
when in my puzzlement
an angel descended
from distant constellations —

a comely Adonis,
face sculpted
by Jirisan mountain
eyes and lips suspended
in a perpetual smile  —

He took my hand,
showed me how to
solve equations
step by step,
pencil strokes on the offensive,
neglecting fear of failure to find
proofs of theorems —

In interweaving moments
he would prepare
chopsticks on teflon,
our measly meal—

I cook gyoza the way          
he taught me,
a different life, no more
theorems to prove —

I recall from long ago
a time of heartbreak
while parting ways
for another love.

D. G. Vachal © 2023

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