WOMB

a chill northern wind attacks from manchuria
the tall downtown office buildings create a formidable acoustic tunnel
like a restless spirit that can find no peace
the wind whips up
howling across the smooth glass surfaces
screeching and cussing and moaning
outside on the street
the icy gusts penetrate the fabric of my clothes
freezing the blood in my veins
chilling me to the bone
not the kind of weather to be out and about in
time to retreat inside to what koreans call the 'mokyoktang'
a warm, tranquil, protective, echoey womb-like place
hot pipes gurgle, steam rises and condenses
naked men wonder about the room
showering, shaving and scrubbing
their shrivelled appendages dangling comically
i undertake the time-honoured ritual
a soak in the warm and hot baths
then a plunge into the cold bath
the scorching heat of the sauna burns my lungs
wet pebbles underfoot
walls of rock too hot to touch
these hot baths remind me of the yoga hall
where i rediscover a sense of physicality normally buried away
the meditative atmosphere
the thoughts left unspoken
the tension of the unbearable heat and the stretch of the pose
the release of the cold bath and the relaxation of the muscles
two parallel korean universes
experienced by this unaccustomed foreigner