Poem: All you hurters

“You are Yin, I am Yang. Today,
we are Chinese.”. I nod. We’ll
wear the curtains as kimono. You
call me a fool, and said only
the Japanese wore kimono.

We are lying next to each other,
too young, our limbs yet to swell
with adolescence. Afternoon
tastes like cardboard. Our throats
are dry. We don’t wake the adults.
This thirsty stillness, belong to us.

We inhale lime from the walls. Bare,
whitewashed, cool. You rub your
back against them. Streaks of white
on your blue shorts. I slap them away.

You suddenly pull yourself away
from me. Break the afternoon in two,
and give one part to me. My dear Yin,
I never meant to hurt you, I said.
One eye wet, the other red, you
say “All you hurters, say the same.”.