Occupied City (33 page)

31. I wait in our room for her to return, but the child keeps crying
did the world make you sad, or do you make the world sad
HOW MUCH FOR A KNIFE I watch for her from the window, but the child keeps crying
did the world hurt you, or do you hurt the world
TO CUT MY OWN THROAT I pick it up, but the child keeps crying
did the world make you cry, or do you make the world cry
A LOVELY SHARP STRAIGHT KNIFE I hold it in my arms, but the child keeps crying
did the world say yes and you said no, or do you say yes and the world says no
TO CUT MY OWN THROAT I try to sing it a song, sleep angel sleep, but the child keeps crying
did the world make you the person you are, or do you make the world the place it is
A LOVELY SHARP CHEAP KNIFE I walk up and down the room, holding it in my arms, down and up the room, but the child keeps crying
was the world to blame, or are you to blame
TO CUT MY OWN THROAT I pat it and rub its back, but the child keeps crying
was it the world, or is it you A
KNIFE JUST LIKE THAT I try to give it food, but the child keeps crying
this petrification, this paralysis
TO CUT MY OWN THROAT I try to give it water, but the child keeps crying
this despair, this hatred A
CHEAP AND ECONOMICAL DEATH Finally I lay it back down, but the child keeps crying
are these tears for the world, or are these tears for yourself
TO CUT MY OWN THROAT The child keeps crying for its mother
these tears
THE LOOSE CHANGE IN MY POCKET

32. He wipes away the tears from his eyes
no, I think you mean Dr Endo; yes, you are looking for Dr Endo
AMONG THE TUNES, AMONG THE SMOKE He says, It is true that I committed the crime
no, I’ve not seen Dr Endo for six months
IN THE FOG, IN THE MIST I feel relieved now that everything is over, that a heavy load has been lifted from me
no, Dr Endo has not been here; no, he has not been to work; no, not for the last six months
THE CITY IS UPSIDE DOWN I don’t have adequate words to express the regret I have for having committed this horrible crime
yes, you could try his room down the highway; yes, in the building between the men’s clothing shop and the bar called Yuki
THE CITY IS INSIDE OUT The police have treated me fairly and properly, man to man, and this treatment allowed me to bring out the
best in my mind
no, Dr Endo said he was going away; no, he didn’t say he’d be coming back
THE WHOLE COUNTRY, THE WHOLE WORLD Chief Prosecutor Takagi Hajime has been a gentleman and Prosecutors Sasaki and Umezu have treated me with consideration and fairness
yes, of course I believed Dr Endo; yes, because he said he was dying; yes, because I knew he was dying; because I could see he was dying
UPSIDE DOWN, INSIDE OUT I do not feel like making any statement in my defence at this time, but I can say that part of my motive was due to science
yes, Dr Endo looked like a doctor; yes, he was about fifty years old; yes, he was about 160 centimetres tall
BACK TO FRONT I have been writing poetry and Chief Prosecutor Takagi Hajime has been helping me
yes, his hair was grey; yes, his hair was short; yes, he had two marks; yes, upon his left cheek; yes, he looked like that, he looked like that picture
THE SUN RISES WITH THE DUSK, WITH THE DUSK THE MOON SETS I am a devout follower of Nichiren Buddhism and it is my desire now that my soul might be cleansed and saved by the great mercy of the Buddha
no, you are not the first person to come here; no, you are not the first person to ask about him; no, you are not the first person to suggest he’s a killer
THE MOON RISES WITH THE DAWN, WITH THE DAWN THE SUN SETS I want the world to know that I have confessed my guilt of my own free will
no, I don’t know where he might have gone; no, I don’t think he could still be alive
AMONG THE TUNES FROM THEIR MUSIC-BOXES, AMONG THE SMOKE FROM THEIR OVENS At last I am able to sleep
because the man had his addictions, because the man was dying
IN THE BLACK FOG, IN THE BLACK MIST

33. I say, Come on, it’s time, let’s go
all men have secrets, all men tell lies
I WANT TO LOVE YOU LIKE I USED TO LOVE YOU Go where, she asks
somewhere to someone
I WANT TO LOVE YOU LIKE I LOVED YOU BEFORE Somewhere, anywhere, what does it matter
all men are guilty, are guilty of something
I WANT TO LOVE YOU WITHOUT SUSPICION It’s so dark here, the city’s that way
somehow, somewhere
WITHOUT JEALOUSY I won’t let you get sore feet again, I promise you that
crimes never stay secret, secrets never stay secret
I WANT TO LOVE YOU WITHOUT THE FEAR OF
LOSING YOU And I’ve got to get back, the dinner to make, the child to feed
men always talk, talk to someone
THE FEAR OF HURTING YOU But please sit down, please stay a bit
in confidence, in betrayal
LIKE I USED TO LOVE YOU The moon and the stars, she says, they look so very red
all men have secrets, all men are guilty
LIKE I LOVED YOU BEFORE Like the glow from their ovens, like blood on iron
all men, always
BUT MOST OF ALL, I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME So very, very red
always
I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME

34. I career from one man into the next, spilling one man’s drink and then the next, until finally I career into one man and his drink and this man turns with all his friends and all the white teeth in all their mouths and he says, If you are looking for a fight Jap, then you’ve found one
my father appears to me now, for the last time
IN THIS CITY OF NO RESISTANCE The American swings a punch at me, missing me and falling forwards to the laughter of all his friends
by the river, by the shore
I HATE THE LOSERS, I HATE THE VICTORS You little Japanese shit, I’m going to rip that little yellow tongue right out of your dirty yellow mouth and strangle you with it
in his uniform
AMERICAN SKIN UPON JAPANESE SKIN, AMERICAN FLESH INTO JAPANESE FLESH The American throws himself on me, straddling me with his thighs and pinning me to the ground, raining down blows from his fists into my face
with his medals, with his sword
I HATE ALL AMERICANS, I HATE ALL CAUCASIANS You little yellow bastard, I’m going to wipe that stupid smile off your stupid yellow face and knock the shit right out of you
he points west, he points east
WHITE SKIN ON YELLOW SKIN, WHITE FLESH IN YELLOW FLESH The American throws a last punch, standing up and kicking me once in the ribs and once in the gut
everywhere is America
IN THIS OCCUPIED CITY, WHERE IS THE RESISTANCE Had enough already, Jap, he laughs, ready to surrender again, are you
everywhere, he says, everyone
I WILL NOT LIVE ON MY HANDS, I WILL NOT LIVE ON MY KNEES I get to my feet, staggering forward into him, raising my head now, my two black eyes staring into his two blue eyes
there are no more Japanese
I WILL CLOSE MY LEGS AND PULL UP MY PANTS You got something you want to say to me, Jap, an
apology for me, an apology in English, you dumb fucking monkey
no more pure Japanese
I WILL WIPE MY LIPS AND I WILL SCRUB MY FACE I shake my head and I lean back and now I spit in his face and I turn and I walk away through the crowd and through the doors
only mongrel Japanese, only bastard Japanese
FUCK AMERICA, FUCK AMERICA, FUCK AMERICA You dirty yellow bastard, come back here and fight like a man, you dirty yellow monkey, come on, boys, let’s get him, get after him
you are the last truly Japanese man alive
IN THIS OCCUPIED CITY, I AM THE RESISTANCE, I AM THE LIBERATION

35. Down by the river, she is still lying where I left her, looking up at the moon and the stars
a poor little girl who had no father or mother
THE SOUND OF SCRATCHING We won’t feel the weather now, we are beyond the weather now, not even the damp in the morning
everything dead, no one left in the whole of Japan
SCRATCHING UNDER THE GROUND Perhaps they’ll lay us side by side in the morgue and then they’ll come with their bags and with their instruments and they’ll lift our sheets
so the poor little girl decided to go up to heaven to where the moon shone down
IN MEMORIES, TERRIBLE MEMORIES I kneel down on one knee beside her and pull her up onto me, resting her back on my knee, cradling her like a child, and I whisper in her ear, You are so pale, so very pale now, I say, when you were black, so black with him
but the moon was just a lump of rotten wood
ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT ME They’ll press their fingers into our bodies at various points and then they’ll sniff their fingers and they’ll make their general observations
then the little girl went to the sun
BEHIND MY BACK And your hair is so wild, didn’t you brush your hair tonight, I’ll tidy you up, don’t worry, I’ll tidy you up
but the sun was just a withered-up sunflower
THOUGHTS, TERRIBLE THOUGHTS They’ll take their largest knives out of their bags and they’ll incise our muscle walls
and when she went to the stars
ALWAYS WHISPERING ABOUT ME I lift her up, I stand her upright, the water’s just there, there in the river
the stars were just little white lice stuck on a piece of dirty old black cloth
BEHIND THEIR HANDS Then kneeling up on the slabs and taking their saws from their cases, they’ll cut briskly through our rib cages
so the little girl went back to Japan
DREAMS,
TERRIBLE DREAMS Come to the river, come to the water, I’ll wash everything away, then you’ll be clean
but Japan was just an overturned pot of nothing
ALL DREAMS, ALL THOUGHTS, ALL MEMORIES Then they’ll lay down their saws and pick up their knives again and incise into us again but more deeply this time
the poor little girl completely alone now
ALL TERRIBLE, ALL BLOODY, ALL IMPRECISE We wade into the river together, up to our knees, then to our chests, now to our necks
she sat down and cried and she’s sitting there still
EACH MEMORY, EACH THOUGHT, EACH DREAM Then they’ll take out our hearts, and they’ll weigh our hearts, on their cold metal scales
sitting there still, all alone, still crying
A WOUND

36. In the Occupied City, I walk away from the riverbank
English words, American voices
CRIME AND POLITICS In this city of no resistance, I walk up to the road
there he is, he’s over there
POLITICS AND DISCIPLINE In this city of wounds, I turn another dark corner
back to the car, quickly he’s getting away
DISCIPLINE AND PUNISHMENT In my ears, car doors slam
over there, over there
IN THE NEW JAPAN, IN THE NEW WORLD In my heart, the engine revs
quick, put your foot down, quick
THE ENGINE OF AMERICAN CAPITALISM, THE ENGINE OF JAPANESE CAPITALISM In my mind, the wheels turn
over there, quick, over there
THE WHEELS OF THE AMERICAN MILITARY, THE WHEELS OF THE JAPANESE BUREAUCRACY In my eyes, the headlights bright
quick, over there to the left, at the side of the road
THE BRIGHT LIGHTS OF THEIR GREEDY EYES, THE BRIGHT WHITES OF THEIR GREEDY TEETH Bang
did we hit him
THE EYES OF THE PEOPLE OF JAPAN, THE TEETH OF THE PEOPLE OF AMERICA The engine revs again
can you see him
JAPAN WATCHING, AMERICA LAUGHING The wheels turn again
he’s there, over there
LAUGHING AT ME, LAUGHING AT YOU Turn and turn again
back up, back up
REVERSE COURSE Bang
that felt like him, like we got him
BANG No more detective
no more mysteries
NO MORE HOPES OF HAPPY ENDINGS Out of the last corner of my eye, I see them coming
half-seen figures, half-heard whispers
IN THE BLACK FOG, IN THE BLACK MIST Paralysis, petrification
on your hands and on your knees
REFLECTED, FRACTURED, DISFIGURED AND OTHER Dead. Dead. Dead
is the little Jap bastard dead
IN THE BLACK MIRROR, THROUGH THE BLOOD-STAINED LOOKING GLASS Only truth
only truth
TRUTH Only fragments
fragments
ONLY FRAGMENTS In the darkness
the darkness
IN THE DARKNESS I have left the scene of the crime for the last time
the scene of the crime
THE CRIME, THE SPECTACLE

Beneath the Black Gate
, in its upper chamber, in the occult square, in the light of its candles, truth only fragments, fragments only here –

No more mysteries
no more mysteries

NO MORE MYSTERIES –

No more whodunnit contests, no more cash prizes,

no more solutions sealed in envelopes,

no more puzzles, no more games,

here fragments, only fragments

in the candlelight, in the half-light,

only fragments, fragments here. Here where nothing is rational, nothing is fair, where there are no more happy endings,

no more endings at all; no endings and no beginnings,

no books; no book-to-come –

IN THE OCCUPIED CITY, beneath the Black Gate, among your blank papers, among your dry pens, you are spinning,

spinning and spinning, spinning again,

deaf again to the foot-stair-steps,

to the sirens, to the telephones,

to the familiar whisper of a familiar man, ‘I told you before, no more tears. No more tears for him …’

that familiar elderly man, that familiar first detective, among his boxes and among his files, dust-webbed and cob-covered,

dragging the dead body of the second detective, dragging it out of the occult circle, away from the light of the candles –

‘Where is your mystery, your whodunnit now?’ he laughs at you, he barks at you, ‘I told you, he did it! He did it!’

‘Liar! Liar! Liar-Dog! Dog-Liar! Lie! Lie!’ you are shouting again, because you hate detectives, and you hate dogs, and all detectives are dogs, all dogs detectives,

except one; this one,

this one which that familiar elderly man, that familiar first detective is dragging

away,

laughing and barking as he goes, as you try to stand, in the light of the four candles, as you try to stop him, in the occult square, to push him to the ground, to kick him in his gut and kick him in his head again, in his deceits and in his lies again, but he is gone now,