Midnight is
layered liberally
In the stubborn curls in my
Violently straightened bangs,
Under which lie two dark gesshoku1
Floating above
Fragrant desert of dried mokuren petals
Which bleed pink to hide ivory secrets.
The granular Osakan sands of my skin,
Explosively dormant,
Smell of Neutrogena
And pressed lychee juice.
And I look at my reflection
Trying to block out your noises,
Your prayers that
My perpendicular
Accent will dissolve into
Flatness, and thin out
Into lethal white diamond.
You smooth criminal:
Ignoring
Tear-streaked whispers
From my cherry blossom lashes,
The pleading lines on my forehead
Before you
Every morning with
The palest foundation
And Marilyn Monroe lipstick,
Telling me I must learn
How to properly live in
1 Amerika, Kimu medaru no tochi.