Poem
Yumi Fuzuki
The Sliced Eyelid
Suppose I turned into a blue June freezerbandage plastered over the split in my eyelid.
It lulls me immediately to sleep.
The stuff welling out of the wound,
So hot, so transparent.
Letting a fingertip swim until it hits window frame.
Longing to touch like delivering a kiss.
The finger marks everything it reaches
with warm fingerprints.
In order to enclose the tree called You
I’m raising a forest on the inside of the eyelid.
Your unbending limbs, press against my exposed flesh.
Red-swollen toes, hidden in shadows of tree roots.
Tears would dull the pain,
so I bite my lip to keep from crying.
It stops time for the two of us, in exchange,
I close the slit in my eyelid.
It’s not that I killed it.
I just put it to sleep.
Let me hear your voice.
I let my finger creep between the branches, intent on feeling.
The dead of night, feeling its way blindly to alight on the veranda,
the scent of rain lightly strokes my cheek.
I step out from under the eaves, allowing my shoulders get wet.
The bandage gradually comes unstuck from my eyelid.
Can I possibly swim through
the landscape my wound reveals?
I pry the blue June door open,
wanting to pull out one by one the things I had frozen
and get them thawing.
The raindrops pelting my eyelids are painfully sweet.
I can cry now without being caught,
The secret will be safe.
On my pounding chest I place my fist,
And let my white breath flutter.
From: Our Cat
Publisher: Nanaroku-sha, Tokyo, 2016
Publisher: Nanaroku-sha, Tokyo, 2016
まぶたの傷口
まぶたの傷口
たとえば六月の青い冷凍庫となってまぶたの裂け目を絆創膏で貼り合わせる。
ぴったりとわたし自身を眠らせておく。
その傷口からあふれ出るものは
あまりに熱く、透明でした。
泳がせれば、窓枠に当たる指先。
口づけを送るように触れたい。
この指がたどるものすべてに
指紋はあたたかく残されていく。
きみという木を閉じ込めるため、
まぶたの裏に森を育む。
きみの枝が、わたしのむき出しの肌を突く。
赤く腫れあがったつま先は、根の陰に隠そう。
涙は痛みを鈍らせてしまうから
泣かないようにと唇を噛む。
ふたりの時を止める、その代わりに
わたしはまぶたの傷口を閉じた。
殺してなんかいません。
わたしはそれを眠らせていただけ。
きみの声を聞かせてほしい。
枝々に指を這わせ、じっと感じようとする。
真夜中、手探りでベランダに降り立てば
雨のにおいがひやりと頬を撫ぜた。
軒先から一歩出て、わたしは肩を濡らしてみる。
まぶたから絆創膏を少しずつ剝がし取っていく。
この傷口の見せる景色を
わたしは泳ぎ切れるだろうか。
六月の青い扉をこじ開けて
凍らせていたもの
ひとつひとつをとかし出したい。
まぶたを叩く雨粒は、痛くて甘い。
泣いたって今ならばれない
ばれはしないのだ と
脈打つ胸にこぶしを置いて
息を白くなびかせている。
© 2016, Yumi Fuzuki
From: わたしたちの猫
Publisher: ナナロク社, Tokyo
From: わたしたちの猫
Publisher: ナナロク社, Tokyo
Poems
Poems of Yumi Fuzuki
Close
The Sliced Eyelid
Suppose I turned into a blue June freezerbandage plastered over the split in my eyelid.
It lulls me immediately to sleep.
The stuff welling out of the wound,
So hot, so transparent.
Letting a fingertip swim until it hits window frame.
Longing to touch like delivering a kiss.
The finger marks everything it reaches
with warm fingerprints.
In order to enclose the tree called You
I’m raising a forest on the inside of the eyelid.
Your unbending limbs, press against my exposed flesh.
Red-swollen toes, hidden in shadows of tree roots.
Tears would dull the pain,
so I bite my lip to keep from crying.
It stops time for the two of us, in exchange,
I close the slit in my eyelid.
It’s not that I killed it.
I just put it to sleep.
Let me hear your voice.
I let my finger creep between the branches, intent on feeling.
The dead of night, feeling its way blindly to alight on the veranda,
the scent of rain lightly strokes my cheek.
I step out from under the eaves, allowing my shoulders get wet.
The bandage gradually comes unstuck from my eyelid.
Can I possibly swim through
the landscape my wound reveals?
I pry the blue June door open,
wanting to pull out one by one the things I had frozen
and get them thawing.
The raindrops pelting my eyelids are painfully sweet.
I can cry now without being caught,
The secret will be safe.
On my pounding chest I place my fist,
And let my white breath flutter.
From: Our Cat
Publisher: 2016, Nanaroku-sha, Tokyo
Publisher: 2016, Nanaroku-sha, Tokyo
The Sliced Eyelid
Suppose I turned into a blue June freezerbandage plastered over the split in my eyelid.
It lulls me immediately to sleep.
The stuff welling out of the wound,
So hot, so transparent.
Letting a fingertip swim until it hits window frame.
Longing to touch like delivering a kiss.
The finger marks everything it reaches
with warm fingerprints.
In order to enclose the tree called You
I’m raising a forest on the inside of the eyelid.
Your unbending limbs, press against my exposed flesh.
Red-swollen toes, hidden in shadows of tree roots.
Tears would dull the pain,
so I bite my lip to keep from crying.
It stops time for the two of us, in exchange,
I close the slit in my eyelid.
It’s not that I killed it.
I just put it to sleep.
Let me hear your voice.
I let my finger creep between the branches, intent on feeling.
The dead of night, feeling its way blindly to alight on the veranda,
the scent of rain lightly strokes my cheek.
I step out from under the eaves, allowing my shoulders get wet.
The bandage gradually comes unstuck from my eyelid.
Can I possibly swim through
the landscape my wound reveals?
I pry the blue June door open,
wanting to pull out one by one the things I had frozen
and get them thawing.
The raindrops pelting my eyelids are painfully sweet.
I can cry now without being caught,
The secret will be safe.
On my pounding chest I place my fist,
And let my white breath flutter.
From: Our Cat
Publisher: 2016, Nanaroku-sha, Tokyo
Publisher: 2016, Nanaroku-sha, Tokyo
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