THREE POEMS by TAMIKO DOOLEY

Heatstroke

you caught the sun today, you said

raising your sunglasses and examining my cheeks

your left thumb brushed under my eyes

with a touch as soft

and close as if

your lips had grazed

my bare shoulder

behind me the kites soared in the sky

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Jishin (Earthquake)

I started the earthquake / ore gajishin / I was lying on the futon / asa no yoji, four in the morning / I turned to my side / watched your chest rise and fall / outside the Tokyo rainfall began to crescendo / smacking against the Okura Hotel window / glass floor to ceiling / kaminari flashing across the sky / the lightbulb above our heads began to swing / a pendulum stretching higher and further / until the walls began to shudder / trembles vibrating to the core / when I reached out to wake you / take us somewhere safe / I was motionless / ugokenakatta / couldn’t touch your body / cracks between us: hidden, silent / I couldn’t / I reached / I turned / I was lying / ore gajishin / I started the earthquake

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Red Flags

I brushed past

You smiled

I glanced

We joked

You poured

We drank

You asked

I gave

Your lips

My coat

You rang

I agreed

We ate

You paid

I thanked

We danced

Your hands

My waist

Your flat

We lay

Your fingertips

My hair

We adored

You bought

I wore

You preferred

I stopped

You laughed

I apologised

You refused

I accepted

You demanded

I obeyed

You unpicked

I unravelled

I left, I left, I left

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Tamiko Dooley read Latin and French at New College, Oxford. She was the winner of the BBC Radio 3 Carol Competition in 2021.