by Naomi Kim

A border is a squiggling trip wire on a map, and I skinned my knee falling. Think of all the signs you can’t read if you only know 1.5 languages. CAUTION: If you stumble between countries, you may land in water. Oh, how my skinned knee stings. I always leave wet footprints in my wake, and they always point backwards.

In biology class, they told us all life started in water.

In the shower, I check for scales on my legs and webbing between my toes. It would be a relief. Mermaid is a word I know in both languages.

Naomi Kim | 김지혜 is a Korean American writer whose work has previously appeared in Lunch Ticket, MoonPark Review, Unbroken Journal, Neologism, and other publications. She is a first-year PhD student at Washington University in St. Louis.