the Sarah that you are,
now a mother and wife of
a rebel (is this true?)
denied of a violin
you succumb into teaching
English to Koreans
who pay you much as you
finally decided not to
be part of any university
which you think will just
oppress you and deny you
the honors that you deserve.
i listen to Sarah Chang's
violin playing Paganini, and
i then remember you
Sarah of the mountains and
the forest, springs, Madonna of
the English language, thriving
on the four corners of your
walls, loving the noddle and
the muddle, singing the
lullabies of your new-born.
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