lights beaming
candles gleaming
strobes streaming.
Midway into the song
sung by a singer in a cowboy hat,
Mom puts my hand on her belly, and
says, “Feel.”
An arm, a leg, a foot?
This baby is responding to
the chords of
John Lennon’s “Imagine.”
Mom sings along
Jiichan and I manage a “you-hoo.”
They look brighter.
This baby is our hope.
SEPTEMBER 22, 2001
SUNBURSTS
Obaachan places two yellow chrysanthemums
at the altar
for the fall equinox.
She gathers the utensils
for the graveyard visit.
I hear Jiichan say we should not go.
Obaachan prepares a dish of salt
for outside the gate.
She tells me to stay here with Mom.
I watch her open her parasol
Jiichan follows behind her.
I wonder if she will help him scrub the stones.
SEPTEMBER 23, 2001
THE FLOWER SACRIFICE
I throw out the last
of the bouquets
and soured water.
I hadn’t noticed
when the cicadas stopped singing.
BLUE SKIES
A national holiday
a day off to observe the equinox
a break from the house
Jiichan and I
ride
down by the river.
Open space
and sunshine
make me want to go fast.
SEPTEMBER 24, 2001
LIKE THE FLOW OF THE RIVER
The molasses time of day
sakura leaves
pedal the wind at my feet.
I am going too fast
for Jiichan.
Waiting,
soles on the ground
in leaf drifts, I watch
a constellation,
dark and light
dull and sparkling
deep and shallow,
glide past me—
the river’s kimono
of autumn amber sun
flowing.
A dragonfly clings
to waving pampas grass.
MINDLESSNESS
Beside me,
a broken pampas’s
feathery head bends.
On one foot
I balance
snap its stem
swivel on the seat
to slide it between the seat and fender.
Beyond me,
a mangled spider lily’s
withering head bows.
I park to rescue it.
On one knee,
I kneel
shred its stem
return to my bike
to thread it through the wires of the basket.
Toward me,
a speeding Jiichan’s
frantic head bobs.
I signal him.
Not seeing me
he keeps going.
On both feet,
I rush
straddle the bike
push sole to pedal
to catch up with him.
MINDLESS
The pampas flutters behind me,
the fire-engine red lily flashes before me
—I realize I look like a—
Nature Thief!
I pedal faster
hurrying to hide
behind the garden gate
fluttering and flashing
Nature Thief! Nature Thief!
Obaachan shrieks when she sees the pampas and lily,
“You don’t take public plants!”
And fumes, “No sensibility.”
I know I know I know I think I was not thinking.
Jiichan looks more than tired.
RAIN, RAIN, PLEASE STAY
Three days of chasing the baton
under hot, sunny skies
I am not sad to see the rain today.
I hope the sky
rains, rains, rains
until Sports Day
and
makes us hold it in the gym
where there’s no room for families
and the relay will be short and quick.
The forecast calls for
mostly sunny days
until the end of October.
Dark days ahead.
SEPTEMBER 28, 2001
OCTOBER 2001
MINDFUL
Masa cannot sit still
in class
he gets up
goes to the pencil sharpener
goes to the toilet
goes to the playground
on his own
when it’s not the appointed time.
Teacher watches his every move
but says nothing to him.
He would keep her busy.
Keeping an eye on him
makes me tired.
He slows me down.
MOON-VIEWING WEEK
Pounding rice into mochi
was a favorite time
for me
now
I watch closely
while Masa takes his turn
with the mallet.
He is skillful at pounding.
We all have a hand
in pounding
until the rice is glutinous and ready
to roll into small balls.
To celebrate the beauty of the moon
up closer to the moon
in Papa’s room
I place my three small mochi from school
and a pampas stem I bought
with my last year’s New Year’s money.
White fluff from the pampas
and gnats from the window
cling to the mochi.
Even though I don’t have
a clear view of the moon,
I am looking beyond my worries.
OCTOBER 1, 2001
LOOKING FORWARD
Ghibli Museum opened today
just a short bus ride away.
I’d like to fall
into the arms of my neighbor,
Totoro,
but it could take years.
Long lines
everywhere tickets are sold
make it like winning the lottery.
I like to think
of him
minutes away,
a lotus leaf on his head,
waiting.
OCTOBER 1, 2001
DREADING
Sports Day
a national holiday
on a Monday
gives Papa two days off in a row!
Obaachan insists Mom should not go.
Jiichan says he will carry the garden chair for her.
“We will go by taxi,” Papa says.
“Mom needs something fun.”
Everyone will know she’s my mother.
No one goes to Sports Day by taxi.
ANTICIPATING
I am still hoping for bad weather.
Jiichan made a teru teru bōzu
(Mom says it’s a Kleenex ghost)
and hung it in the window
to wish for fair weather.
We watch the clouds
and the weather report.
Scattered showers, Sports Day will go on.
Obaachan started cooking early
delicious foods
to eat for breakfast and
to fill the obentō boxes
for the family
to eat on the sidelines
and for me
to eat in the classroom.
The class is interested in mine:
wiener cut like octopus
sweet egg
broccoli
grilled fish
onigiri
tomat
o
all sitting on a lettuce leaf.
Mine is the best looking obento, they say.
I savor each bite
like it’s my last meal.
OCTOBER 8, 2001
RELAY
One after another,
students take turns to sit, stand,
run the course,
pass the baton.
“Ob-la-di, ob-la-da”
the Beatles song
looping
“Ob-la-di”
I sit behind Masa
waiting
“Ob-la-da”
he digs his heels into the muddy dirt
not watching
not cheering
not caring?
I look toward Mom.
Jiichan is holding an umbrella over her.
She loves this event.
They play this song every year at my school.
She’s not singing along today,
but she looks okay
holding her belly;
this baby must be moving to the beat.
“Life goes on”
Masa’s time to stand
take his mark, ready, set, go.
I am on my mark
to take my turn.
“LA-LA, HOW THE LIFE GOES ON”
Masa runs toward me
slaps
the baton
into my hand
for the first time
I’m off
running
head down and fast
skidding
I slide
reaching across
the finish line
first.
The white team, our team, gets the point!
Mom is standing, worried.
I wave.
Scuffed up but not skinned up
I spend the last event
at the nurses’ tent
being dabbed with alcohol.
I watch
the red team in a line passing a big red ball
the white team in a line passing a big white ball
over their heads toward a goal
remembering Teacher’s advice:
“Keep your eye on the ball and
be mindful of others.”
Sports Day ends in a tie.
Later, Mom congratulates me.
Obaachan mentions it was a team effort.
Papa says, “Well done, Ema.”
Jiichan comments on the sweet olive-tree blossoms.
Before Papa leaves, he asks me to watch over Mom.
OCTOBER 8, 2001
AMERICA INVADES AFGHANISTAN
During the evening news,
Obaachan takes the remote control
away from Jiichan
switches off the TV
and says,
“No more.”
We will not watch a war.
DRAFTED
Jiichan has to participate
on the school’s fall festival committee.
He says the festival sounds fun.
I have to go since
Jiichan has to work so hard.
But I don’t want to go.
What would be a good excuse?
BABY IN DANGER
Mom sits up in bed
holding her belly
breathing quickly
chanting deeply
whoosh, whoosh
get Jiichan
whoosh, whoosh
get Jiichan
whoosh, whoosh
GET JIICHAN!
Stumbling
in the darkness
in the telephone cord
in the middle of the TV room
I shout,
“Ji-i-chan!”
Scramble
slide
crash
he appears at my feet
pulls the phone cord
dials
calls a taxi.
The baby is coming
almost two months
early.
DROPS OF JUPITER
Jiichan has control of
the hospital lobby TV
tuning into reports of
NASA’s Galileo sailing
by a moon of
Jupiter,
the closest encounter ever,
and
the US Navy
searching the Ehime Maru
in shallow waters near Honolulu.
Obaachan and I circle
each other
in opposite directions
around the lobby.
I keep an eye on her
and with each step wonder
why
this baby is in a hurry.
Obaachan stops to read notices on the bulletin board.
I orbit past her
wishing
there were any way
on Earth
to stop this baby from coming early.
OCTOBER 16, 2001
FALSE ALARM
But this baby doesn’t come
and keeps us there
waiting
for Papa to arrive
before the doctor
sends us all back
with instructions to
keep Mom comfortable and
calm.
RESTLESS
Hard to concentrate on
the homework assignment
Sachiko dropped in the mailbox.
I check on Mom every thirty minutes.
Obaachan says I cannot miss any more school.
I don’t know how
I will make it through
tomorrow
away from Mom.
I tell Jiichan to watch over her,
but I know I don’t have to tell him that.
BEHIND
I already missed too much
last month.
Yesterday I missed
the beginning of art projects
for the exhibition at the end of November.
Everyone has planned
the first project:
a painting to celebrate the Sun.
I am behind in art!
CONCENTRATION
I begin to sketch
a smaller circle
on top of a bigger circle
evolves into—
Mom.
The bigger circle is her belly—
this baby,
the shining Sun.
The idea grows
involving
two more smaller circles;
a smaller circle
on top of a larger circle
revolving
Mom and the Sun—
Me.
I only outline.
Masa seems to like art.
He is seriously planning an exploding Sun.
PEACE ON EARTH
This baby gives us another scare.
The doctor sends us back.
Jiichan and I
pile into the backseat of a taxi with Mom
Papa sits up front
Obaachan goes back by bus.
“Radio okay?” the driver asks
in the most polite language.
Jiichan says yes and leans in;
the TV has been off
for more than a week.
The radio tells us,
after peace talks, the Irish Republican Army
is laying down its guns.
We all cheer,
even the driver.
I hope this good news spreads
from Ireland
east
across the Middle East
across the Far East
west
across the West
across the world, and
across the universe
for international peace one day
soon.
Thank you, Baby!
We wouldn’t have heard the news
without your alarm.
At bedtime, I say to Mom’s belly, to this baby,
“I can’t wait, but please don’t hurry!”
OCTOBER 24, 2001
NAMING
Now or later,
this baby needs a name.
Still, no one has mentioned possibilities
and
no one is talking about finding any.
Not sleeping,
lying in night light
monitoring Mom’s breathing,
I see possibilities
in her collage.
I tiptoe into the TV room.
Obaachan is soaking in the bath
Papa is snoozing on the floor
Jiichan is sneaking a look at the news.
No one sees me with the collage
pulling a book of baby names from a shelf,
no one sees me
looking up the kanji possibilities for the words, and
no one sees me
circling two words on Mom’s collage.
I am the one who finds a name,
a perfect name,
for this baby.
GONE AND COMING
Papa went back and forth
to work
from here
waiting for this baby.
This baby waits
until he is far away on a business trip
then decides to come.
IN NO TIME
I jump to my feet
scrambling
for the phone cord
coming out of restless sleep
Mom crumples into a ball
groaning.
This time is different
she does not whoosh or chant.
Jiichan!
He phones for an ambulance.
“We need to go,” Mom whispers.
Ten minutes we are out the door
two steps, cringe, two steps, cringe
through the gate
we advance toward the main street to flag
any taxi that comes along.
An ambulance slows, stops,
the driver shouts “Satoh-san?”
Jiichan flags him with “Yes!”
They are gone
and I am alone with Obaachan.
I don’t understand.
I always go with Mom.
Obaachan tells me I need rest.
WIDE AWAKE
I lie alone in Great-Grandfather’s room
thinking
I won’t sleep tonight
tomorrow is Saturday
why am I here?
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