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Seattle 1946
Where It Pinches: Okinawa
Untitled
ABOUT
MIRA
CHIEKO SHIMABUKARO
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Seattle 1946
(after The Book of Ruth)
by Mira Chieko Shimabukuro
1. Nobu
I'm watching Reiko sew.
The leftover cuts of fish wait in the fridge.
When the button is secure on her winter coat,
we will broil each salmon wing,
let the flesh fall in pink slivers against our plates.
The owner gives her these small treats
when she is taking off her apron, tying a scarf
around her hair, pulling galoshes up over her shoes.
Why doesn't she leave here? Reiko could have
any man. Even the Chinese and Filipinos
eye the way she walks down Jackson Street.
She will meet none of their stares. On the pier, she opens
her palms to the gulls, lets them take what she offers,
and when they have what they need,
watches them pull away from her hands,
push toward the sky.
2. Reiko
At the pier, open air, open light,
open water.
Across the sound, Bainbridge where the first of us
packed what we could carry, paper tags
knotted through button holes, flapped in the wind.
In camp, everything was dust.
Kizamu at Tule Lake; John and Hiro, Germany.
When the officer came to our barrack, two flags
folded in a triangle, Nobu and Sumi-chan stared
deep into the stars; I walked out of the room.
Sometimes I wonder if I should've
gone back:
I could be with Sumi, Japan and its rising sun,
but the lettersso much to rebuild.
And here Nobu can do little. Her bones
dry under her flesh. When I come home
from the restaurant, she is still staring.
The photo of her two sons in uniform
sits on top of an old sea trunk; the flags,
packed away. She never mentions
Kizamu-san's name. There are no pictures
of him out. I once asked about their
wedding day,
the day she walked off the ship
and they held each other's photos up
next to their faces. He was twenty years older
than she. Always she tells me
how lucky modern girls are, how Hiro and I
were just a few years apart. How deeply
we must have loved one another.
I cannot remember his face. What
stares out
from his uniform is not who I married.
When we met in Japan, he wanted to teach
Japanese to the American born. I wanted
desperately to see what the world could offer.
Closing my eyes, I can feel the sea
air swirl
around my head. Gulls, calling
one another, eat the leftover rice I bring.
When they're done, light loosens
the clouds and their wings arc the sky.
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