Hiromi Itō Poems

Childbirth was not dying nor defecating
Childbirth was just a very painful period
For the thirty-seven hours from beginning to end
...

I make shiratama
And take them to my man
I heat the sugar and form syrup
Put in the boiled dumplings
...

Mother leads us along
And we get on board
We get on, get off, then on again
We board cars and busses
We board planes
...

Mother leads us along and we get on board
We get on and off again
Boarding cars and buses and planes
Then more buses and trains and cars
...

Can you speak Japanese?
No, I cannot speak
Yes, I can speak
Yes, I can speak but cannot read
...

My grandmother was a medium
My mother was a magician
My mother's older sister was a geisha
My mother's younger sister had tuberculosis
...

More than through skin, more than through sex
Unease is something that becomes clear through language
Something that makes me particular
...

I came to encounter a coyote
I left all sorts of things behind
You couldn't get on a plane unless you traveled light
Back then there were weight restrictions for planes, they don't have them any longer, American bodies have no restrictions, they've become so big that there aren't restrictions on the weight of bodies or luggage any more, but back then, I can't even count how many times I picked up my bags and stepped on the scale, no matter how many times I weighed myself, I still wasn't the least bit lighter
Not knowing what else to do, I took out my books
Then I took out my clothes
Then I went to the bathroom and defecated
Then I took out more clothes
Then I threw up
Then I took out more books
Then I stripped off all my clothes, held my bag, and stood on the scale, but I wasn't the least bit lighter
Know what I mean? That's what it means to go on a trip
That's what it means to leave the place where you live
Trips and then more trips
There are things you need to carry with you to survive
Not knowing what else to do, I called my husband, filed for divorce, talked to my children and told them Mommy wouldn't be home for a while, in other words, it was only after I abandoned my relationships, my attachments, and even my language that I was light enough to get on the plane, when I arrived, all I had was a few changes of clothes, some cash, my passport, my visa waiver, my credit cards, and an 
international driver's license
In California, the sky was blue, there was nothing but seashore, wild land, and housing developments, it was hazy and hard to see in the evenings, it was as if everything was immersed in mother's milk, my toes got cold, I bought some socks, but after wearing them three days, the cheap things were ready to fall apart, I looked long and hard at them, feeling like a coyote
(Yeah, I tell people I came alone
But that is not entirely true
I was always thinking about the coyote
The two of us traveling together)
I saw dead raccoons
I saw dead skunks
I smelled them too
Someone I met the first day said to me
The whole place smells like skunk, must be a dead one somewhere
It was an unfamiliar scent, but now I know it well
The whole place smells like skunk, must be a dead one somewhere
I know to say that to people now
In any case, I didn't see
Any coyotes
(Two traveling together)
Someone in the street
Told me to get the hell out of here
Why had I come? I couldn't find what I wanted, I had come so far but, get the hell out, this isn't the place where the coyotes are, they're farther away, in deeper places, where there is nothing, where there is much more emptiness
So I headed east
From the western edge of the continent to the east
The interstates
With odd numbers run north and south
While even numbers run east and west
Those in the 500s are the bypasses for I-5 (north-south)
Those in the 800s are the bypasses for I-8 (east-west)
I took I-5 south to I-580
I went further south to I-8 then went east
East, east, east
And even further east
In Arizona, I took I-17
At Flagstaff, I took US Route 89
I dashed into a roadside motel, slept, and woke
And started driving again
The morning light shone brilliantly
Each time I stopped to fill up with gas, I bought some brownies, each individually wrapped, I tore off the wrappers with one hand and ate them as I drove, the ridiculously sweet lumps stuck to the roof  of my mouth, when I stopped in front of a motel that night, my fingers didn't want to leave the steering wheel, at the registration desk, the words I needed to say in English didn't rise to my lips, even though 
I knew them all too well
(Two traveling together)
There was a woman standing at the side of the road, I called out to her in broken English, asking her what was the matter, she answered in what was also broken English
Would you mind taking me to the nearest gas station?
She sat in the passenger's seat
I'm Navajo
Where are you from?
From California, I answered
No, that's not what I meant
What tribe are you from? she asked
(Two traveling together)
From Kayenta I took US Route 163 toward Monument Valley
I had heard that coyotes lived there long ago
That it's an amazing place, the moon rises, the sun sets
I imagined it would be like seeing the ocean
But when I got there, it wasn't like the ocean at all
Rocks soared into the air
Rocks, rocks, even more rocks
Red rocks
In the dust
I watched the sun set over them
By the time I got back to Route 163, the sun had sunk deep beyond the horizon, the only thing I could see was the road in front of me, 
I drove on looking for a place to sleep, but I didn't see a thing, there wasn't anything to see, air rushed through my cracked window, 
letting out a long, thin, high-pitched whistle
Hii-iuu-uuuuu
Hii-iuu-uuuuu
Like a reed flute
My thin, hard window was slightly open, the wind rushed in but couldn't escape
Hii-iuuu
Uuu-uuuuu
Uuu-hiiuuuuu
(Two of us heard it)
I drove a long way before spying a large motel, I saw the vacancy sign as I approached, I thought I'd have to drive for hours and hours before finding a place to sleep, I thought I wouldn't stop, that I'd drive all night without stopping, but the place I found was part of a chain you see in every city, the bed was big and deep, and there was lots of hot water in the tub
(Two of us were there)
The next morning
The car was completely filthy
The whole thing was covered with bright red dirt and sand
The windshield was covered with the splattered bodies of countless insects
No one knew I had slept there, nor that I was leaving, nor which direction I was headed, no one knew
It was a day that invited
Death along the roadside
I hadn't even driven for five minutes before I saw it —
A single, dead coyote
Lying on its back, legs in the air
(It was both me and
My travel companion, too)
...

The first time I ever heard about coyotes
Was in a book called (in Japanese) Seton's Animals for Boys and Girls
There I encountered Lobo the Wolf King, bighorn sheep, a family of wild boars, cottontail rabbits, and raccoons, but it was the stories of the wise coyote I loved the best
I read the book over and over, over and over, it taught me the wisdom of rabbits, wolves, wild boars, but nothing surpassed the wisdom of the coyote
Tito was raised by humans, was kept constantly on a leash
No one loved her, they teased her until she ran away
She learned to survive
Ran for her life with her pups in her mouth
Trying to get away from dogs and people
I read about her over and over, over and over
There was a map of America in the front of the book with pictures of animals where the stories took place: coyotes in the central plains, wolves in the southwest and north, elsewhere there were cottontails, boars, and partridges
During my childhood, that was America to me
Where did that book go? I no longer live in my childhood home, not even in the same town, not even in the same country, I lost my place there, I lost people and relationships, almost lost others too, I lost my language, but what about that book I read over and over, over and over? I must have lost it too

Just the other day
I tried searching for it on Amazon
It popped right up, and I ordered it straight away
Lives of the Hunted it's called in English
Published in 1901, reprinted in 1967
It arrived at my home
A former library copy, the word discard stamped on it in big letters, probably the library didn't want it because the stories are too cruel, too cruel for today's youth, nowadays kids are used to killing one another in the virtual world, but even so, the stories are too cruel, 
a mother coyote was giving her cubs her milk, was licking them when hunters shot her dead, her cubs fled into their den, only to be dragged out one by one
Here is how the book describes it:
Even at this age there was a certain individuality of character among the puppies. Some of them squealed and some of them growled when dragged out to die. One or two tried to bite. The one that had been slowest to comprehend the danger, had been the last to retreat, and so was on top of the pile, and therefore the first killed. The one that had first realized the peril had retreated first, and now crouched at the bottom of the pile. Coolly and remorselessly the others were killed one by one, and then this prudent little puppy was seen to be the last of the family. It lay perfectly still, even when touched, its eyes being half closed, as, guided by instinct, it tried to "play possum." One of the men picked it up. It neither squealed nor resisted.
Neither squealed
Nor resisted ...    
The book was in English, but I could read it quickly
Since I remembered the Japanese
I had read the book over and over, over and over
All the coyote pups were killed
Only one survived, only a single pup
Tossed with its dead littermates into a sack and taken to a farm
In the original, the hunters named her Tito
That's what I had suspected, I had read it in an old translation, kids in Japan back then couldn't be expected to pronounce the unfamiliar sound ti, but that's the version I was brought up on
So for me, her name was always Chito
I was always Chito

Wow-wow-wow-wow-wow-w-o-o-o-o-o-o-w
I remember her voice
When I was a child, I read the book over and over, over and over
Here is how the book describes it:
an inborn hankering to sing
Her songs were
a volley of short barks
mixed with doleful squalls —
Wow-wow-wow-wow-wow-w-o-o-o-o-o-o-w
Here is how the book describes it:
when the sun went down she would feel the impulse to sing that wild song of the West which means so much to the Coyotes. It is not the invention of an individual nor of the present, but was slowly built out of the feelings of all Coyotes in all ages.
I'm not sure if I remember the Japanese correctly
Getting old is no fun at all, you forget important things like that
It is not the invention of an individual nor of the present,
but was slowly built out of the feelings of all Coyotes in all ages and
Her experiences all emphasized for her that old idea to "lay low"—
that is, to be quiet, unobtrusive, and hide when danger is in sight
Those were the most important things I learned as a child
Chito's wisdom
How to survive
Seeing the book, I remembered why
I came to this place called America
The most important things I learned as a child
Were in that book I read over and over
Maybe I had lost them for a while
Or just forgotten
The fate of the animals, their lives and deaths
Their lives upon the plains, and my life too
Chito was killed over and over again
But each time she came back to life
The humans tenaciously, persistently killed her
She tricked them and was tricked by them in return
She scattered her feces, went into heat
The more they hunted her
The more clearly things came into focus
In other words, all the things she thought along the way
Not the invention of an individual nor of the present
But slowly built out of the feelings of all coyotes in all ages
It was for Chito
For Chito
That I abandoned my home, bought an airline ticket
And came to this place
There was someone I barely knew, I'd only barely caught his scent
But still I followed my nose and pursued him
I found a room, rented a car
And stayed the full three months permitted without a visa, I thought I'd try to stay
When people asked me why I'd come, I said
I'm a poet, I've come to learn about the oral traditions of the Native Americans
And that was true
But I didn't even know what I wanted to know
I didn't know where to go
I didn't know whom to ask
I was terrible at speaking with people in my native tongue, so in English it was damn near impossible, I couldn't even tell them who I am (it took me decades to say that even in Japanese)
But the real reason I came
Was because I wanted to encounter a coyote
I wanted to prick up my ears and listen to its howl
Rattling dryly over the roads, through the darkness of night
...