Wheels

A fire is coming!  A fire’ll be here soon!
There was a female snake that kept warning us
It lived for ages in the storage space above the closet
We grew up hearing its voice
Each time we laid out the bedding
Eventually my sister and I could hardly stand it
We would lie in wait anxiously, temples pounding
It’s coming tonight!  It’ll be here tonight!
Did you extinguish it?  Did you put it out? 
Did you smother it?  Are there any cracks for it to get in?
We started lowering our eyes to check

The snake was one of the factory girls three generations ago
She was so beautiful she turned the heads of men passing by
But the man she loved cheated on her
She started taking methamphetamines so often
She could not leave the workers’ dormitory
She started having visions
She started hallucinating about fire
A fire is coming!  A fire’ll be here soon!
Perhaps she wanted to feel a fire burning down there
There were only women in the factory
They poured water into her mouth from a teapot
And she came to for a moment
One side of her face would be smiling
But her expression would look so forlorn
Her hairline raised in a peak
A fire’s coming!  Hot!  Hot!
She steamed, went into convulsions, and died among nightmares
They say they gave her a funeral right there
Her brother did not come for her ashes
Even the locks of hair her co-workers saved
Were stashed away in a storage compartment
It was that hair that cried out to us
Every night

The fire in the kitchen range, the fire in the stove
The charcoal in the brazier, the cigarettes in the ashtray
The heater beneath the bath
The metal latch in the sliding door, the window key
When my sister and I grew too intent
Looking at one would cause us to forget what came before
The snake would cry out, Look, it’s a trap! And we would start all over
A fire is coming!  A fire’ll be here soon!
We were compelled to crawl around the floor
Who knows how many times our eyes licked
The charcoal stoves at the feet of the women
In the spinning factory?

I was terrified of the voice, it would get under my skin
It was my older sister pulling my leg
She was imitating the factory girl
She turned off the light in the bathroom so it was pitch black
And would imitate it, A fire is coming!  A fire’ll be here soon!
She made me cry
I cried and clung to my sister as she teased me
She was just trying to scare me
But even so
In the slowly cooling steam
She would eye me with a strange gleem
As if she were speaking the truth
A fire’s coming!  A fire’s coming!  It’s coming!  It’s coming! 
The factory’s going to burn!
Her voice, the voice evoked the snake
And came after me
It turned upon me and came after me
It got under our skin, swallowing
The two of us together in the nude

We would try to endure it as we rolled up the bedding
But we would always crawl out
And it would lift itself up
And the factory girl
Would look at the source of the fire with us
We would slither, slither, slither
The ceiling would spit out dust
The handles on the chest would rattle
I don’t get it!  The more I look
The more fiery apparitions in the sparks
We would check too often to see if the fire was out
     If the gas opening on the kitchen range was out
          If the cigarette butts in the ashtrays were out
               If the burning embers in the hibachi were out
We would light them
          We would set our eyes upon
     The ghostly flame
I who was chasing my sister who was chasing the factory girl who was chasing my sister who was chasing me who was chasing
Me who was chasing me who was chasing the factory girl who was chasing my sister who was chasing…
We were mice, gasping, forming a big whirl
We were house mice, shaking our breasts in fear
We can’t catch you!
We called out to the sparks

The spinning wheels smile

We would often light fireworks by the ditch by the factory
We would bring the brass candlestick from the family’s Buddhist altar
And bring the colored paper near the flame for our ancestors
And the powder would suck it in
It would choke a bit
Then the flame
Would spring up
Would turn, would kick the gravel
Would try to steal the children’s ankles
Would reflect in the water
Would explode and
Would scorch the straps of our sandals and at the same time
Would get under our skin
The flame had no feet
Nor did the dead
So it would try to swallow us
We were the ones being chased
We were the ones
     It was after

The spinning wheels smile

There was a bright red quilt
Sewn from the old underclothes
The factory girl wore beneath her kimono
When I snuggled into it
My face would grow red
And wind would pass through my throat
Snuggle further down and
The setting sun would shine, flashing
The thick snake would start slithering
From the storage closet
Coming for the two little mice
Its eyes clear, the color of flame

     Flaring
               The flame
          Would crawl closer

It was on fire
               The factory girl, her hair had come lose
                              And had become the shimmering of the heat
It was on fire
               My sister, she stuck out her tongue
                              From behind her buck teeth
I stood
               On the edge of the ditch
The flame
               Burning at my ankles

The spinning wheels turn.  They turn in the hot wind.  They turn with the hot hands of the flames.  They turn intently.  They turn like a coiled snake.  They turn staring at fate.  The spinning factory is a wheel of flame.  It turns, swallowing a whirlpool of fire.  It spins on and on to the end of the world.  It spins on and on to the end of time. 

It is spinning

It is spinning its bright red thread

Translation by Jeffrey Angles