japan, the woman in the black dress

japan, my dear, you were so beautiful
even after the craving trapped me
on an island buried in radiation and gloom by
a hiroshima cloud
i tracked the kitsuné down to the pier
and in fearful deception it became the
sensual woman in the black dress, who
was the delusion bound to my mind by
obsession, love, and lust
it kept me here in this terrible place
as the cloud lifted and dissipated into the ocean breeze
i could see- the advantage was finally mine
i clutched it at the throat and squeezed,
it's amatory front remained until
the moment it died, and
meanwhile i watched the expression
roll off of its face
my eyes became dry in tense anticipation
and the tips of my fingers dripped with
something more than blood
i released
and let the
body concede to the ground
now i swim alone (i always was) from
the edge of this world to the edge of another
the water smells of salt and
feels both hot and cold
body drenched in cortisol,
peaking during the inevitable, unyielding storms
rigid with panic - the sea is apprehension
but i keep swimming
drag my arms over and under the water
over and under
over and under
this current,
i'm so very near
so very close to escaping,
the coastline is approaching
i can see it faintly
in the


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