Maidens (too small)

yo-yo
forgive me Mother
it snowed heavily in the inky town
and donkeys of the white town
worked hard on blowing their red balloons
pu-pu-pu-pu
what is three-hundred-sixty times tears-of-blood times a moonless
         night?
I don’t know,
a hungry fat monkey that boiled its new tie to eat
because it was hungry?
a kick? hundred slaps on the face?
give me some time
what that old branch is pointing to is the next life past twelve
         o’clock
but Daughter, get down, front leaning plank position.
eternally returning
yo-yo
temper


inky snow lets up in inky town
and donkeys of the white town are stuffy gosh can’t breathe
pu-pu-pu-pu red balloons fly up
teary snotty my Mother,
look at those windows brimming with green moons, Mother is thin
and everything not Mother is fat
but what is a mixed-up closet times tears-and-snot divided by
         three-hundred whips?
(rot in hell for a hundred-thousand years you ugly ducklings!)
a mother-and-daughter walking with black-and-white in-between
         and mother-and daughter…
sea versus lake? heels inside dress shoes?
Ah I don’t know my Daughter
what that old branch outside the window is pointing to is the twelve
         o’clock announcing dawn
but Mother, there are loads of dead bugs inside me, too, hold that
         plank position properly.
eternally returning
yo-yo
temper
time can pass
but the bean-sized yo-yo is
back-and-forth frantically black-and-white crazy-bitch
let us flutter our hearts, Mother!

Shikoku Manzai 漫才¹

—Episode Ferna


1
that’s a rubber doll we don’t eat that…i know…then why are you eating it?…it’s smiling…it’s smiling?…i’m scared of cheerful people…they’re scary people, have you visited a park on a holiday all alone?…alone? park on a holiday?…you’re playing dumb by the way what’s this terrible odor?…maybe they’re burning a cat somewhere…dummy the clock tower is burning over there…you mean the red advertising balloon?…can’t you see the birds frozen helpless in the air? like some flaxen flower pattern…it’s no good making fun of older grown-up adults…there’s no such person who’s a fully grown-up adult… fully grown-up adult?…look at that man reminiscing about his childhood is he a grown-up adult or a child?…silly child, you’re still just a kid confusing despair and discontent…is it why birds don’t sing facing each other?…because they’re ashamed…why do beasts only talk face-to-face when they duel?…because they’ve forgotten shame…just like the two of us tiffing and miffing miffing and tiffing… i’m going to Ferna…Ferna?…Ferna, where no clocks nor calendars exist and dapper guys dance and the music doesn’t stop…have you gone up those pleated skirt stone steps between the twin buildings?…by the time the tall buildings start looking like tiny bugs you’ve reached Ferna…i’ll send you a postcard when i get there…Ferna, it’s the first time i’ve heard of it but why are you going there?…because i don’t want to cry…because you don’t want to cry?…because i don’t want to sleep-talk…sleep-talk?…sleep-talk, opening a black notebook every night opening a page that can’t be forgotten…brother with smeared red lips, the dogs teeming around him, Father who’s beating the dogs…deciphering them from the top of the tree and within the thicket i don’t want any of that, in Ferna, in Ferna no one sleeps and no one cries…hey do you want to go with me?…to Ferna?…to Ferna…it hurts too much to go…hurts too much where?…leaving here…that hurts…it hurts so don’t be scared…if you get scared you’ll become slower and shrewd Father will soon notice …what a watery kid, do you really think there’s such a thing as Ferna?…why do you think there isn’t such a thing as Ferna?…let’s leave it…sure let’s leave it…were you always such a crybaby?…no…then what’s making you so sad?…it’s you…me?…baka…baka, i see…


the girl scurrying and disappearing into the small alley between
         the buildings
the black burnt clock tower topples over with zero resistance
and the man takes a bite at the rubber doll the girl left behind
the girl’s laughter vociferously swaying deep inside the alleyway,
that’s a rubber doll, we don’t eat that, we……



2
the boy jumps out of his sweat-soaked bed
and rakes through the dictionary Ferna Ferna, no such word
         as Ferna exists
strewn were books and clothes messily on the floor of the room and
flown in through the window a long radiant noon postcard.

^{1 Traditional slapstick comedic genre in Japan that involves two performers engaging in rapid-fire jokes}