Juliet s kono books on tape
Juliet s kono books on tape tv...
Tsunami Years
Late Praise by Juliet S. Kono
Japanese fathers give praise
thin as toothpicks, limp as saimin noodles, rough as bone meal.
My father couldn't say anything nice.
He'd rather jump off Honoliʻi Pali.
Just not his style.
Juliet s kono books on tape
His style? Attack the head.
He called me "stupid," "dumb," "bakatare."
And best to do this in front of people,
to make shame,
break the proud daughter bone
that straightened the back
and hauled the immovable
will of the mouth.
And it's the mouth,
after all, he just had to get to--
like mud wasps on the housewalls
in summer.
It was too smart for its own good,
that ugly sphinctered mouth.
It got his goat, cut his bait and hurled its turd
like no Japanese girl should.
He knuckled the head,
connected to the angry face
and the O ring of the mouth that was ready to snap--
mean with the teeth of disappointment.
There was always the taste of something bitter,
like melons and medicine,
year after year.
Now,