Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Yumi Fuzuki

Ceiling Observation

Going to school was meaningless.
7:10 in the morning.
When the clock’s hand made its slight bow,
I had to plop feet onto the systematic grain of the wooden flooring
And drag my pajama hems across.
In this white void,
The graining ran by under the soles of my feet.
Slowly, I tried squinting, but
With this body, what could I do? What should I do?
It seems no one knew.
The meaning of life
Seemed to have fallen somewhere.
Is anyone confident
They will die a nice, neat death?
Am I a leaf mounting the wind and blown away,
Or rather,
The cigarette butt the sole of your shoe toyed with just now?
Start getting fussy about existence and
You’ll fall right down.
“Where to?”
Under the bridge, I guess.

The school nurse’s office is extraordinary.
The milky-white terrycloth blanket
Muttering as though somehow drunk,
Whispers into my nose.
“Teacher, this smell—is it medicine?”
Suddenly, Teacher says,
“Must be sleep deprivation……”
and peers into my eyes.
So that my pupils don’t become dark cratered holes.
Yet, I’ve seen this tiny darkness in Teacher’s moles.
Looking carefully, I see that darkness yawn wide,
Drawing breath after silent breath.

The school nurse’s office, a room dedicated to ceiling-gazing,
Ceiling observation bed.
I’m alienated even from myself—
Suddenly, like the sensation of wings sprouting, someone caresses my head.
That sensation chomps up my limbs,
This flesh abducted.
As though my toes were abandoning me, one by one.
Thus I just want to clutch the terrycloth blanket.
I don’t want the chime to sound.
I shake my caressed head,
Flying up into the sky of the ceiling.
Ah, I’m so happy.

I want to know how to want to go home.
It means nothing.
‘Cause just now, there was a cigarette butt on the ground.

天井観測

天井観測

学校に行く意味はなかった。
朝七時一〇分。
時計の針がおじぎをしたら
私は規則的なフローリングの木目を踏みしめて
パジャマのすそを引きずらなくてはならない。
空白の中、
私の足もとを木目が駆けぬけていく。
ゆっくりと目を細めてみたけれど
この身体で何ができるのか、何をするべきか
本当のことは誰も知らないようだった。
生きる意味は
どこに落ちているんだろう。
きれいに死ねる自信を
誰が持っているんだろう。
自分は風にのって流れていく木の葉が、
でなければ、あんたが今
くつの裏でかわいがった吸い殻ではないのか。
存在なんてものにこだわっていたら、
落ちていくよ。
『どこへ?』
橋の下さ。

保健室のベッドは非日常的。
ミルク色のタオルケットが
何かに酔いしれたようなつぶやきを
私の鼻にささやく。
「先生、このにおい、クスリ?」
先生は
「寝不足かねぇ……」
とだしぬけに私の目をのぞきこむ。
私の瞳が真っ暗な穴ぼこでありませんように。
けれど、私は先生のほくろに小さな闇を見た。
よく見ると、その闇はぱっくり口を開き、
静かな呼吸をくり返している。

保健室、天井を眺めるためのお部屋、
天井観測ベッド。
私は自分にまでも隔離されて、
ふと、翼が生えたような感覚に頭をなでられた。
その感覚は伸びきった四肢を食いつくして、
この肉体をさらっていく。
足の指一本一本が立ち上がりそうな。
そうしてタオルケットを抱きしめていたいような。
チャイムが鳴ってほしくない。
私はなでられた頭をふって、
天井の空を飛んでいた。
ああうれしい。

家に帰りたいと思うしくみが知りたい。
意味はないんだ。
たった今、吸い殻が落ちていたからね。
Close

Ceiling Observation

Going to school was meaningless.
7:10 in the morning.
When the clock’s hand made its slight bow,
I had to plop feet onto the systematic grain of the wooden flooring
And drag my pajama hems across.
In this white void,
The graining ran by under the soles of my feet.
Slowly, I tried squinting, but
With this body, what could I do? What should I do?
It seems no one knew.
The meaning of life
Seemed to have fallen somewhere.
Is anyone confident
They will die a nice, neat death?
Am I a leaf mounting the wind and blown away,
Or rather,
The cigarette butt the sole of your shoe toyed with just now?
Start getting fussy about existence and
You’ll fall right down.
“Where to?”
Under the bridge, I guess.

The school nurse’s office is extraordinary.
The milky-white terrycloth blanket
Muttering as though somehow drunk,
Whispers into my nose.
“Teacher, this smell—is it medicine?”
Suddenly, Teacher says,
“Must be sleep deprivation……”
and peers into my eyes.
So that my pupils don’t become dark cratered holes.
Yet, I’ve seen this tiny darkness in Teacher’s moles.
Looking carefully, I see that darkness yawn wide,
Drawing breath after silent breath.

The school nurse’s office, a room dedicated to ceiling-gazing,
Ceiling observation bed.
I’m alienated even from myself—
Suddenly, like the sensation of wings sprouting, someone caresses my head.
That sensation chomps up my limbs,
This flesh abducted.
As though my toes were abandoning me, one by one.
Thus I just want to clutch the terrycloth blanket.
I don’t want the chime to sound.
I shake my caressed head,
Flying up into the sky of the ceiling.
Ah, I’m so happy.

I want to know how to want to go home.
It means nothing.
‘Cause just now, there was a cigarette butt on the ground.

Ceiling Observation

Going to school was meaningless.
7:10 in the morning.
When the clock’s hand made its slight bow,
I had to plop feet onto the systematic grain of the wooden flooring
And drag my pajama hems across.
In this white void,
The graining ran by under the soles of my feet.
Slowly, I tried squinting, but
With this body, what could I do? What should I do?
It seems no one knew.
The meaning of life
Seemed to have fallen somewhere.
Is anyone confident
They will die a nice, neat death?
Am I a leaf mounting the wind and blown away,
Or rather,
The cigarette butt the sole of your shoe toyed with just now?
Start getting fussy about existence and
You’ll fall right down.
“Where to?”
Under the bridge, I guess.

The school nurse’s office is extraordinary.
The milky-white terrycloth blanket
Muttering as though somehow drunk,
Whispers into my nose.
“Teacher, this smell—is it medicine?”
Suddenly, Teacher says,
“Must be sleep deprivation……”
and peers into my eyes.
So that my pupils don’t become dark cratered holes.
Yet, I’ve seen this tiny darkness in Teacher’s moles.
Looking carefully, I see that darkness yawn wide,
Drawing breath after silent breath.

The school nurse’s office, a room dedicated to ceiling-gazing,
Ceiling observation bed.
I’m alienated even from myself—
Suddenly, like the sensation of wings sprouting, someone caresses my head.
That sensation chomps up my limbs,
This flesh abducted.
As though my toes were abandoning me, one by one.
Thus I just want to clutch the terrycloth blanket.
I don’t want the chime to sound.
I shake my caressed head,
Flying up into the sky of the ceiling.
Ah, I’m so happy.

I want to know how to want to go home.
It means nothing.
‘Cause just now, there was a cigarette butt on the ground.
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