[APPLAUSE]
This is called Demilitarized Zone.
It's another border poem.
But I think maybe this is pretty common knowledge,
but the Demilitarized Zone is that strip of land that
separates the Koreas, North and South Korea.
And I was like, that's maybe another aperture,
a demilitarized zone.
And I just started to imagine what
would happen if the whole thing was a demilitarized zone.
So that's what this one's called.
I roll my suitcase through the Demilitarized Airport.
I hand my Demilitarized ticket to the Demilitarized
agent at the gate, who smiles in a demilitarized way.
Points with an open hand.
On the plane, I order a demilitarized orange juice.
I look down at the Demilitarized mountains of Siberia
and imagine walking on them.
We land on the Demilitarized runway,
and the captain's voice over the loudspeaker
is demilitarized as he asks us to stay in our seats.
In the bathroom, I brush my demilitarized teeth.
I get on the wrong Demilitarized train,
and have to plead with the conductor who
does not have a gun.
I watch the demilitarized pine trees filter
the sun like a ceiling fan.
I watch demilitarized cranes land on a lake,
so bright it makes me blink.
The Demilitarized conductor bows as he enters each train car.
An old woman sits with Demilitarized bundles
wrapped in pink.
At Pyongyang, I stop for a demilitarized noodles.
The Taedong River is not full of bodies.
The sun in the trees makes a noise like, eee, eee.
The sparrows and the buckwheat fields
shout in Northern accents and no guns.
At Uiju, the platform is demilitarized.
The taxi stand is not pockmarked with mines.
I buy a demilitarized barley tea,
and the shopkeeper hands me my change,
like she's responsible for me.
In the Demilitarized record haul,
I hand over a slip of Demilitarized paper,
and the clerk smiles at my accent.
You've traveled a long way, she says,
as she leads me to the Demilitarized stacks.
We find my family's genealogy book.
We turn to the last generation, recorded before the world ended
and our line split South.
I unfold my paper with a list of missing names.
The clerk copies the letters as I read them.
Together, we demilitarize my family.
The sun coming in through the windows says, ah, ah.
[APPLAUSE]