Fumiko-San
Five years have passed and now it is the year 5769
I wrap the ghost of my mother into an Origami swan
-white as pond lilies in July
I fold her neatly again like a fetal embryo & stuff her into
my left shirt pocket – along with six months of losing
lottery tickets
But I can smell her perfume! It is as if her head is resting
next to mine on the couch while waves of rose petal haiku
sift like delicate snowflakes through my sleep
Each day when I come home, I try and find the source of her essence –
I sniff every pillow and corner. I pull the couch out from the wall
and crawl along the floor. I open the oven and stick my head
in like Sylvia and then also the refrigerator.
I check my closets and all my clothes
and the deck outside but cannot find the source.
Cherry blossoms somehow in August
Tokyo napalmed to ruins –
only my grandfather’s house left standing
“Fumiko-San?” I call out to her, her perfume as pungent
as daylight to a man trapped in a coffin
I was a terrible son
I hardly ever visited you in the nursing homes
Left as soon as I came.
I close my eyes and breathe
I see you so young in a shimmering indigo silk kimono
Your hair dark & shiny as wet Anthracite
Your smile goes to the moon
The bomb was just dropped
And I won’t be born for another
twenty years.
By: Roy Akiyamo
Roy Akiyamo is a native of Bucks county Pa, he has been writing poetry and stories for over thirty years and has been published in River Heron review, Karla’s 13 New Hope Poets, Apiary magazine, Bucks county writers magazine, New Zealand’s Billstickers Cafe Reader, Bucks county Herald and others. He has studied at New York University NYU Tisch school of the arts and Bucks county community college. In a paraphrase of Einstein he believes that imagination is more important than knowledge. Roy is also a United States Army veteran. He served as a medic in the Middle East and other places. Roy Word Smith, as he is known among his poetry colleagues has been a long time facilitator and docent of multiple poetry readings and series including the New Hope Poets and Writers Group.
This is captivating.
If the author is reading this: Can you describe the ending?
What do you mean by:
Love this one!!
I feel these words my friend, they are beautiful
What a beautiful poem this is. Full of pain and love at once. Saturated with imagery. Great job, Roy Akiyamo.
This touched my heart…..poignant and moving. I can almost smell her. You feel guilt for having been a terrible son but she visits you, leaving her essence everywhere, to let you know that she has always loved you and forgives you, despite everything.