Gillian Kayrooz

 

At the Peak of Tenjinyama: 

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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

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not to mention the distant and scattered roars of exhaust pipes,

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that carry to my room

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a second in delay

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I am exhausted and uncomfortable, however the weather comforts me the same way my

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clothes do

freshly packed from home

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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

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I forget ‘that’ feeling and begin to reside

amid this humid summer,

amongst the trees

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at the peak of Tenjinyama