Sunday Service: Mitch Grabois poem
Japan
I walked into the water and started swimming
I thought I would swim forever
My wish was to swim to Japan
and eat fish that contains deadly toxins
unless it is scrupulously prepared
and then visit the Buddhist temples
to bow down at a family shrine at the side of the road
to eat rice with the family
But I felt myself sinking
I don’t know how he got there
My sister’s boyfriend threw a carry on me
His hand massaged my breast as he towed me
It was unpleasant
but it was foreplay
so it was compulsory
I knew all about compulsory
from my Olympic training
He dragged me onto the sand
Each grain of sand was a finely honed razor
I already knew that the world was made of razors
If you explored the molecular structure of anything
you discovered it was made of razors
My brain is made of a billion razors
Each neuron is a razor
Each synapse is a strop
I wanted to scream at my sister’s boyfriend:
Why are you torturing me?
but couldn’t get any words out
He gave me mouth-to-mouth
I thought that meant we were married
without violence
I sat up and vomited in the sand
My sister came over with a child’s shovel and covered it up
The shovel was bright green
It turned into a mystical frog
and squirmed in her hands
She shrieked and dropped it
The mystical frog peed in the sand
and froze everything for eternity
Mitch Grabois was born in the Bronx and now lives in Denver. His short fiction and poetry appear (or will appear) in over one-hundred literary magazines, most recently The T.J. Eckleberg Review, The Examined Life, Memoir Journal, Out of Our and The Blue Hour. His novel, Two-Headed Dog, published by Xavier Vargas E-ditions, is available for all e-readers for 99 cents through Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords (which also provides downloads to PC’s).
Sunday Service