Do peep
Into the shower head
That just fell off.
See beyond
The grommet in the public lavatory
And the gunshots in jeans.
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The first time I let a man hold my body was recent; a Florida-born man with a good job in New York City and a dead dad buried just a few months after mine. I could see the grief that lived beneath his face when we met, though it was a softer grief, a type I don’t think I’ve ever known.
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I had no idea John took that many pills, no idea he ignored directions on labels, no idea how he expected doctors to fix everything, not until he teetered on that sharp edge of life and death, the razor edge that slashed me, the observer, instead of him, the perpetrator of much of his own bad health…
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Dear Children,
What did you dream about last night?
How did you help today?
Why is that important to you?
I’d last seen Lily and Sprout naked almost half a year ago, wading into a stream on a summer day before our ice-cream parlor jobs began. Their butts were fuller, lapping the surface of the water as they lowered themselves in. Their torsos had shortened to accommodate wider hips, and thin long hairs trailed from their pubic bone, lining their belly buttons…
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As a half Japanese, half Jewish (Eastern European) Caucasian woman, hybridization is literally a part of my DNA, and shows itself often in my practice. Influenced by my paternal grandmother (who was continually making things with her hands), I often choose to incorporate crochet, embroidery, felt, pins, etc. in my work. The history and connotations of these materials intrinsically add to the work.
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