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FOREIGN / GREY-- Prose-ish Poem

FOREIGN / GREY

Because I’m from Fukushima, I say, I’m not / radioactive poison, and eat green / seaweed salad from a bowl. You / hold my hands as we share these long / silences together. Because / I’m a Buddhist, I recite, Namu-amida-butsu, at noon / over lunch, and very late at night after a long / day’s work. But I don’t pray for the Japanese. I pray / for myself because I crave / a word. I want it to avalanche into my eyes / like a kaleidoscope for the dead, but the sky / darkens as usual because I’m so / often lost in this foreign / grey. I take my two fingers and push / them into my breasts. I say, If I / die with cancer, for example? You rub / my left breast. My brown / nipples are so cold at 2:30 A.M.



***Note
Namu-amida-butsu is a phrase from Buddhist prayer.

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