|| 'B' (If I should have a daughter) || Hiroshima || Hands || Postcards || Extended Development || Montauk || Forest Fires || Dreaming Boy ||
|| The Type || Beginning, Middle and End || Repetition || Teeth || An Origin Story || When Love Arrives ||
|| The Type || Beginning, Middle and End || Repetition || Teeth || An Origin Story || When Love Arrives ||
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Ojīchama is what I call my Japanese grandfather.
In 1945, his Tokyo home was burned to the ground.
Grampy is what I call my American grandpa.
In 1945 he was serving in the USS Shangri-La,
sending off American bomber pilots to burn down Japanese houses.
Our jaws have not yet healed.
1906 - Poland.
Grampy’s father is hiding in an oven.
He doesn’t know the irony of that yet.
He’s heard men singing on the streets below.
Hyenas, my family calls them.
After celebration drinks and songs,
the outside townspeople come in to the Jewish ghetto
for a celebration beating -
molar fireworks and eyelid explosions.
Even when Grampy’s father grows up
the sound of sudden song
breaks his body into a sweat.
Fear of joy
is the darkest of captivities.
1975 - Tokyo.
My father, the long haired student
with a penchant for sexual innuendo,
meets Reiko Hori,
a well dressed banker
who forgets the choruses to her favorite songs.
Twelve years later they give birth
to a lanky light bulb.
1999 - California.
My mother speaks to me in Japanese -
most days I don’t have the strength to ask her to translate the big words.
We burned that house down Mother, don’t you remember?
1771 - Prague.
In the heart of the city, there’s a Jewish cemetery -
the only plot of land
where Grampy’s ancestors were permitted to be buried.
When they ran out of room, they had no choice
but to stack dead bodies, one on top of the other.
Now there are hills
made from graves piled 12 deep,
individual tombstones jutting out crooked,
like valiant teet
emerging from a jaw
left to rot.
1985 - My parent’s wedding.
The two families sit together,
smiling wider than they need to.
Montague must be so happy,
we can Capulet this all go.
1999 - I sit with Grampy’s cousin,
91 years old and dressed in full uniform.
I plead with him to until the knots in his brow.
He says
Hate is a strong word,
but it’s the only strength that I have left.
How am I to forgive the men
that severed the trunk of my family tree
and used it as timber to warm the cheeks
of their own children?
2010 - Grampy and I
sit in silence
watching his favorite:
baseball.
I look over,
the infertile glare of the television reflects his face, wet.
Granpy sits on his wheelchair,
teeth gasping out of his gums
like valiant tombstones
emerging from a cemetery
left to rot.
The teeth sit staring at me,
nd I can read them:
Louie Bergman, killed at Auschwitz.
Samantha Cohen, killed at Dachau.
William Kaye, killed at the coast of Okinawa.
I will never forget what is happened to our family, Grampy.
And he looks at me with the surprised innocence
of a child struck for the first time.
Phillip,
Forgetting is the only gift I wish to give you.
I have given away my only son,
trying to bury my hate in a cemetery that is already overflowing.
There are nights I am kept awake
by the birthday songs of children
I never let live.
They all look like you.
A plague on both your houses.
They have made worms’ meat of me.
In 1945, his Tokyo home was burned to the ground.
Grampy is what I call my American grandpa.
In 1945 he was serving in the USS Shangri-La,
sending off American bomber pilots to burn down Japanese houses.
Our jaws have not yet healed.
1906 - Poland.
Grampy’s father is hiding in an oven.
He doesn’t know the irony of that yet.
He’s heard men singing on the streets below.
Hyenas, my family calls them.
After celebration drinks and songs,
the outside townspeople come in to the Jewish ghetto
for a celebration beating -
molar fireworks and eyelid explosions.
Even when Grampy’s father grows up
the sound of sudden song
breaks his body into a sweat.
Fear of joy
is the darkest of captivities.
1975 - Tokyo.
My father, the long haired student
with a penchant for sexual innuendo,
meets Reiko Hori,
a well dressed banker
who forgets the choruses to her favorite songs.
Twelve years later they give birth
to a lanky light bulb.
1999 - California.
My mother speaks to me in Japanese -
most days I don’t have the strength to ask her to translate the big words.
We burned that house down Mother, don’t you remember?
1771 - Prague.
In the heart of the city, there’s a Jewish cemetery -
the only plot of land
where Grampy’s ancestors were permitted to be buried.
When they ran out of room, they had no choice
but to stack dead bodies, one on top of the other.
Now there are hills
made from graves piled 12 deep,
individual tombstones jutting out crooked,
like valiant teet
emerging from a jaw
left to rot.
1985 - My parent’s wedding.
The two families sit together,
smiling wider than they need to.
Montague must be so happy,
we can Capulet this all go.
1999 - I sit with Grampy’s cousin,
91 years old and dressed in full uniform.
I plead with him to until the knots in his brow.
He says
Hate is a strong word,
but it’s the only strength that I have left.
How am I to forgive the men
that severed the trunk of my family tree
and used it as timber to warm the cheeks
of their own children?
2010 - Grampy and I
sit in silence
watching his favorite:
baseball.
I look over,
the infertile glare of the television reflects his face, wet.
Granpy sits on his wheelchair,
teeth gasping out of his gums
like valiant tombstones
emerging from a cemetery
left to rot.
The teeth sit staring at me,
nd I can read them:
Louie Bergman, killed at Auschwitz.
Samantha Cohen, killed at Dachau.
William Kaye, killed at the coast of Okinawa.
I will never forget what is happened to our family, Grampy.
And he looks at me with the surprised innocence
of a child struck for the first time.
Phillip,
Forgetting is the only gift I wish to give you.
I have given away my only son,
trying to bury my hate in a cemetery that is already overflowing.
There are nights I am kept awake
by the birthday songs of children
I never let live.
They all look like you.
A plague on both your houses.
They have made worms’ meat of me.
|| 'B' (If I should have a daughter) || Hiroshima || Hands || Postcards || Extended Development || Montauk || Forest Fires || Dreaming Boy ||
|| The Type || Beginning, Middle and End || Repetition || Teeth || An Origin Story || When Love Arrives ||
|| The Type || Beginning, Middle and End || Repetition || Teeth || An Origin Story || When Love Arrives ||