- Five Poems
Coming Out
Perhaps the real me is the back of my head You become more honest behind me I, who want to know more about you Should perhaps walk backwards After grinding my face on the bare floor
Another real me is my anus But for you my anus is utterly disgusting I, who want to know more about you Should perhaps speak with my anus Tearing apart my lips, saying please love me
I am ashamed You carry many shameful animals like me Inside your pockets and deep in your drawers
Every time you are ashamed Of hating your shame You write and erase a postcard [End Page 173]
You cut off and attach your wrist You become a grandfather or a great aunt who died one hundred years ago
Are you ashamed? Let’s shake hands
Your hand is inside the first page you tore off [End Page 174]
Sikoku, the Man Dressed as Woman
Noon spews fire from the sky’s hot summit
The lizard writes He tears it up and writes again
(I want to shake hands, I want to touch you but my hands are in the forest)
To the old woman who throws away the parasol and collapses To the dog that runs away into the fire, dragging its chain
The lizard, whose tail is cut off, writes He tears it up and writes again If you bathe in the bathtub, it surely gleams with beauty If you are eating an apple I will be jealous of it I am the knife gripped in your hand; it will gladly ruin your heart
At twelve, I was already a great woman who broke out of a man Sending love letters every day to the boys my age Who had the habits of rats to foretell the future
(I will not promise until the tail grows back and I can touch your hair. The more I try to tell the truth the stronger my lies become)
There was a time once when someone wrote shit in red on my pencil case
(I wonder why the rats cannot walk softly in the moonlight)
So I won’t forget the future I endure the stench of the back room [End Page 175]
While putting on make-up and taking it off, while putting on a skirt and taking off a bra I feel my stomach rise falsely and suffer morning sickness
The lizard writes He tears it up and writes again
Your gaze that runs away toward my back whenever we embrace each other!
My love, I too have a womb. Is that wrong? Why in the world do you still question my name?
Sikoku, Sikoku
The lizard with red lips runs
Holding a long letter in his mouth Following the dog that disappeared into the fire Climbing over the silence of the collapsed old woman
The lizard runs
At noon when the rose by the window Is eating fire with dark red teeth
The hands in the forest will receive it And the tail will read it
(My love, I will tell you once more a strong lie for the last time)
Wait for me, wait for me! [End Page 176]
Her Face Is a Battlefield
Like the moment the second hand takes the sixtieth step Pushing the back of the minute hand that attacks the hour hand
Her face is a battlefield
Like kids at a public cemetery where a festival parade passes by Who drink ten cups of jostlings and swallow twenty cups of wranglings Whose goal is to knock down
Her face is a battlefield
She is quickly loved and quickly forgotten
Amidst darkness, a woman cries, a second woman cries A third one rushes outside
Like endless coughs two women spit at each other’s face with a mirror in between [End Page 177]
Two Stillborn Hearts
Like a clown driven into this earth upside down Twelve years old with too many sweets Two feet walk on the empty air continuously
Time, like a petty thief, dies in darkness Little by little, hiccupping Sparrows enjoy it...