The American Poetry Review

FOUR POEMS

Terroir: A Mapping / Jishin-no-ben

1.

Wine-makers say it’s the complex flavor
created by the singular terrain of place:

the kinds of minerals in the soil
filtered through the soft pulse and coil

of earthworms; the curl of fog that snakes
around blushed grapes like wisps of smoke;

the taste of rain. You like how the word
evokes the trauma, the bruise, of origin.

2.

Because you don’t want her to feel lonely
you flatten yourself down to a sheet of paper

thin enough to slide underneath the door
of your mother’s room so you can sit with her

inside the conspiracy. Most days she locks you out:
swears at you in Japanese, tells you she hates you.

But some days you flatten yourself so far down
you’re able to slide back into remembered terror.

3.

The way that mercury seeps into the tender
flesh of oysters and sea urchin; the way

hazardous industrial waste contaminatesthe soil and

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