Papers by Kumiko Mae

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Remember
In my head are days when papers cut through your hand to reach the tip of my fingers.
They beg to be noticed, to be read and considered, until the palm of my coldness turn red from the rash of holding too tightly.
Do you?
Remember how you hummed as you sliced through the spices that teared up the room.
It was delicious to listen.

Think about it, you said. And I did because it's you. I didn't want to
but I must because you asked so I should
do, remember what happened
all that was lost and could be found.

To remember that the days that counted our chances were all devils in my head, foams of the sea, never the ocean.

How I remember
the acid burning the edges, the shining stain of real black seducing my lips to read,
Your name, bewitchingly
signed first
above printed letters of a dream we thought we could only hope for, and then
that real bursting feeling inside my stomach that crumbles the very mortars of my hope
to be with you, til death
keeps us apart.