Gillian Kayrooz
At the Peak of Tenjinyama:
Beads trickle down before I swipe them away into the back of my palm
I disintegrate into the bed, as it sinks to the floor
together we produce one audible exhale
the way the leaves collide with the wind is unbelievably reminiscent of home
not to mention the distant and scattered roars of exhaust pipes,
that carry to my room
a second in delay
I am exhausted and uncomfortable, however the weather comforts me the same way my
clothes do
freshly packed from home
It takes a matter of a week, a longer than I expected,
but now I am more than settled
I have drank, bathed and washed from the water of this neighbourhood
I forget ‘that’ feeling and begin to reside
amid this humid summer,
amongst the trees
at the peak of Tenjinyama