Jane Joritz-Nakagawa has published her poetry in a number of small

press magazines. Originally from the Midwest, she has lived and worked

in Japan since 1989. She can be reached via email at:

vf2j-nkgw@asahi-net.or.jp

body plant

We went back to the place

where they were assembling the bodies. They were

sorting the arms and legs by length. I took one

off the conveyor belt, shiny with white dots, well

marbled. Though the color was all

wrong the texture was perfect and it fit like a glove. Marcy

grabbed a foot but it wouldn't fit into either her bag or

shoe. The toes kept wiggling trying to break out.

Torsos lined up glittering in the sunlight which came in

through the skylight. Brad chose a buxom one. Willy

took one which was small breasted and covered with a pinkish

rash. He likes taking care of things. He is always working on his

car. He can fix anything.

After that we had lunch in the garden terrace, small triangular

sandwiches with

the crusts cut off and something pink in a glass.

Later the police came and removed the dead. We left in

single file, heads bowed in respect, the weight of our bundles

forcing us to crawl in the sand which by now had cooled, night

bringing a chill which was oddly embracing.

room without windows

picture diffuse mirrored ball

another damning self portrait

not economical

not tasty

uninterrupted by belief

remove the scaffolding

fence stand up like his cock at attention

i am always watching you

an oriental screen/scream

smash the computer to bits never

giving the desired answer

your terminally restless hands

overcome headless overarching pain

i cup one in mine it squirms

a bullet lodges in my face

it sleeps comfortably

where the room stops

the universe he holds

in his stomach

a tree falling

the place where your breast once was

when my head separates from my body

when i can't see anything

i am at my very best

Jane Joritz-Nakagawa