(Peace Hotel, Shanghai)
Gods of napalm, gods of cobalt and phosphorus,
gods of polybrominated diphenyl ether,
give us this day our daily lie:
of the war no one can talk about, or talk about not talking about,
of coup, counter-coup, and counter-countercoup,
of splinter groups and splinters of splinters.
The hooded bodies are roped down like dogs,
blindfolded and gagged, or heaving bile,
the lucky ones, because they’re still alive.
I woke and slept and woke and slept
as if my disbelief could save him:
but no peace, no peace, in the Peace Hotel.
Lord of Morphine, Lord of Methamphetamine,
I am sick with a fever of never—
so airbrush away the corpses,
bring on the mail-order brides.
I woke and slept and woke and slept
but no peace, no peace, in the Peace Hotel.
Suji Kwock Kim is the author of Notes from the Divided Country, Private Property, a multimedia play performed at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, and Disorient.