Dead by Jane Joritz Nakagawa

in the voice of the dead assorted bodies tempt
us in a basket speak to the dead they guffaw

back enfold in the breeze a tree the tree
of everlasting while not paying attention azaleas spring

from graves of the dead cut and sold like
genitalia in the middle of the night robbed of potential this

is how the insignificant live this is how the uninsured die this is how
wars are staged this is why the doctors come this is

pilgrimage slippage and pillage this is why this is why we fled the border this
this the sound of the dead hitting off brick heads

bouncing on stone steps this the hiss of an oven with a dead
bird in it a sprinkling of rape on top of mere pillage the part

i must necessarily paint over the spot you missed this the feel of a foot
stepping over the bodies of the dead this your last

will & testament hidden in this shoe walking without a foot this growth
in your throat from too much pillage spreading up toward the

blood red border slippage your tired beige baby worn hips finally give up
taking it my dry breast severing it

About the Author

Jane Joritz-Nakagawa has well over one hundred publications. Her poetry collection titled Skin Museum was published in 2006 by Avant Books, Tokyo (available from TSSC, Tokyo: contact kawamura@c-enter.co.jp). Other poems have been in journals such as New American Writing, ACM, Tinfish, and One Less. She lives and works in central Japan. Email is welcome at janenakagawa@yahoo.com.

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