all they see is an anonymous Asian
Poetry by Mitchell Krochmalnik Grabois, Winter 2014
*
1.
Tu was a psychiatrist
but not my shrink
Not mine
We were
colleagues
I was a professional in
a profession I gave up so long ago
I can’t remember what it was
Tu was famous
though no one knew
She was the little girl photographed
running
down the napalmed road
her face a mask of pain
her skin melting
But when people look at her these days
all they see is an anonymous Asian
in black-framed glasses
They don’t know that napalm is
still in her skin
threatening to combust
I love her for her sacrifice
and unconditional acceptance
She is healing me with her heart
I ink secret messages
in the rubber
of my black and white Keds
She reads them and understands
but pretends she hasn’t seen
2.
That night, Tu handed me a couple of pills
For your malaria, she said
I’ve never had malaria
but I took them
as a show of trust
Later we went for a walk in the woods
Suddenly we were in a thunderstorm
drenched to the skin
Lightning flashed
and a bolt hit a tree not fifty feet away
We screamed
and dropped into a ditch
The water flowed under and around us
and reflected the flashes of lightning
that lit the varicose sky
The mud was orange ointment and
when I peeled off Tu’s clothing
her molten blue flesh
hissed like serpents
Crawdads scuttled out of the way
of our transcendence
Around us, black pajamas
banged blocks together
nodding and smiling
deafening us
*
M. Krochmalnik Grabois’ poems have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines in the U.S. and abroad. He is a regular contributor to The Prague Revue, and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, most recently for his story “Purple Heart” published in The Examined Life in 2012, and for his poem. “Birds,” published in The Blue Hour, 2013. His novel, Two-Headed Dog, based on his work as a clinical psychologist in a state hospital, is available for 99 cents from Kindle and Nook, or as a print edition.