Our Puzzle
I cut you into 1,026 pieces and begin to reassemble them in the air. Several
hours later, you appear in front of me again, but something is different. I
notice that you look like yourself in the photograph which was taken at the
beach last summer.
You seem to be bothered by the chillness, because you are wearing a
sleeveless shirt and short pants. And also, your whole body is covered with
thousands of seams, through which the dry wind blows. It’s already the end
of November.
I find one little piece lying on the ground. It is shaped like a teardrop and
painted blue. The twilight time is nearly over. I pick up the piece and throw
it into the darkening sky. You show me a relieved smile and fall apart into
1,025 pieces.
hours later, you appear in front of me again, but something is different. I
notice that you look like yourself in the photograph which was taken at the
beach last summer.
You seem to be bothered by the chillness, because you are wearing a
sleeveless shirt and short pants. And also, your whole body is covered with
thousands of seams, through which the dry wind blows. It’s already the end
of November.
I find one little piece lying on the ground. It is shaped like a teardrop and
painted blue. The twilight time is nearly over. I pick up the piece and throw
it into the darkening sky. You show me a relieved smile and fall apart into
1,025 pieces.
Our Haircut
You are an old barber. When I ask you to fix my bangs, you build a crossing
gate on my forehead. All the way home, the alarm keeps blaring right by my
ears, which reminds me of the days before the railway in this small town
was abandoned.
The next day I ask you to dye my black hair silver. You wash my hair
with barbecue sauce. I come home and go to bed. In my dream, I am a silver
lion crouching in the cage. No one comes to feed me. I am dying of hunger,
but feel so relieved.
When the night comes, you bring down the full moon from the sky, cut it
into two half moons, and hand me one half as a closing-down gift. It shines
faintly on my palm. You stick the other half on the mirror and turn off the
light of the shop.
gate on my forehead. All the way home, the alarm keeps blaring right by my
ears, which reminds me of the days before the railway in this small town
was abandoned.
The next day I ask you to dye my black hair silver. You wash my hair
with barbecue sauce. I come home and go to bed. In my dream, I am a silver
lion crouching in the cage. No one comes to feed me. I am dying of hunger,
but feel so relieved.
When the night comes, you bring down the full moon from the sky, cut it
into two half moons, and hand me one half as a closing-down gift. It shines
faintly on my palm. You stick the other half on the mirror and turn off the
light of the shop.
Our Conch
After walking down the deserted street, I see a souvenir shop. You welcome
me and recommend me a conch which is made of glossy plastic and painted
yellow. I buy it and come out of the shop. The April sky is covered with
Yellow Dust.
After walking for several minutes, I see the same shop. You welcome me
and recommend me a conch which is made of the smelly skin of red dogs. I
buy it and come out of the shop. The April sun is shining red above the
people with pupilless eyes.
After walking for several more minutes, I see the same shop. You are
putting away a conch which is made of a black origami paper. I buy it and
come out of the shop. The April night is being folded up from behind me. I
have nowhere to go.
me and recommend me a conch which is made of glossy plastic and painted
yellow. I buy it and come out of the shop. The April sky is covered with
Yellow Dust.
After walking for several minutes, I see the same shop. You welcome me
and recommend me a conch which is made of the smelly skin of red dogs. I
buy it and come out of the shop. The April sun is shining red above the
people with pupilless eyes.
After walking for several more minutes, I see the same shop. You are
putting away a conch which is made of a black origami paper. I buy it and
come out of the shop. The April night is being folded up from behind me. I
have nowhere to go.
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Satoshi Iwai was born and lives in Kanagawa, Japan. He writes poems in English and in Japanese. His English work has appeared in Fairly Tale Review, Newfound, Into the Void, Phantom Drift, Outlook Springs, and elsewhere.
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