Sherry Okamura: Rabbits

Rabbits

(CW: historic suicide)

In the year of the Rabbit
my half moon dance 
for the ancestors.
The wrong kind of Japanese
again,
not camped enough, 
apparently
not interned at all.
Kidnapped a time or two.
Given away freely,
my ancestors'
trauma bent corners
each fold proof 
of their humanity,
and I'm 
so white in New Orleans
and too Japanese in Idaho
they don't ask
what are you
in Portland,
as much.
Assumed I'd hafu my way through 
this in-between nature 
my soul's contract
a neutral agent, 
baking soda of souls
but I'm no revolutionary
I'm just intensely angry
is that the secret,
is that why rabbits do it so much,
are they hate fucking?
I'm hate-thriving 
a bitter, fertile weed
each unfurling gesture
against internalized inheritance. 
My ancestors:
gritty as bone china,
with propensity
for jigai— 
     Female ritual suicide performed to preserve one’s honor. 
     In war invading armies would enter a home, 
     find the Lady of the house seated alone, facing away. 
     They’d find she’d achieved quick and certain death 
     before they even entered the building, 
     her legs tied together to preserve her dignity.
     Women carefully taught jigai as children,
     Now there’s an interesting alternative  
     AP Home Economics.
That invading army,
A deserting wastrel,
One mad in the forest 
run away from her nest,
a fully stocked 
suggestion box.
The ashen elders 
pause, 
dusted eons breathe,
assess 
this 
dancing 
poet clown
bloody eyed and brittle,
with dreadful heart
(for in the end 
we are all the prey)
What i ask
of you,
kind listener? 
Just a step or two
in this persevering dance,
gently bowing
at the ancestors' service,
our relentless litters 
seeking more purchase 
because
and despite of, 
their code.

Sherry Okamura is a dancing poet clown who lives and performs in Portland, Oregon. She is the producer of Sloppy Slam, a quarterly comedic cabaret and poetry slam competition. Her first poem, "Squirrels," will be published in the 2023 Lightship Press anthology.