Two Views (After Tsunami), and: A House's View, and: Fishes' View

Abstract

Two Views (After Tsunami), and: A House's View, and: Fishes' View Yuko Taniguchi (bio) Yuko Taniguchi, poem, tsunami, embalmer, ocean, diptych Two Views (After Tsunami) I On the second day after the tsunami, a retired embalmer was askedto work. Bodies kept arriving at the gym. His first task was to wash a boy who had drowned in a school bus caught by the wave.He removed the backpack from the boy. "Don't worry. I'll put your bag right here." He smiled at the boy. He lifted the boy's armsand peeled the sweater up from the waist. "I will have to cut the neckline of your sweater, but don't worry. The cutwill be small." He made an incision with silver scissors. His hands carefully moved to wash the boy's face with a wet towel.He massaged the hardened muscle underneath the boy's chin, then slowly pushed up. "I'll have to repeat this. I'm sorry. You must beuncomfortable. Hang in there," he said. For twenty minutes, the embalmer rubbed the boy's chin. He could see the brown mud movinginside the boy's throat: "Hang in there," he said. When the boy's muscles were soft enough, the embalmer pressed the chin firmly to close the boy's mouth.Placing his wrinkled palm on the boy's forehead, he stepped back. "Thank you so much for working with me." He bowed deeply. [End Page 100] II On the second day after the tsunami, my dead bodywas found. When my mother saw me, she fell on her knees. She touched my pale skin and squeezed her eyes.She gazed inside my mud-filled throat. You suffered. You were cold. She cried out and began banging her head against the flooruntil the police held her back. Her cry echoed inside the building. To be honest, I don't remember how I died.I wasn't cold now. But I couldn't speak to my mother. That night, a man came to me, smiling. He said he wouldtake good care of me. His fingers pressed the corners of my eyes and the center of my forehead. His fingers circled untilthe gathered wrinkles disappeared. He rubbed cream on my neck and on my cheeks, to pull them up slowly from my chin. My jawhad hardened to iron wire. "Sorry, it must be uncomfortable. Hang in there," he said. He repeated this over and overuntil my mouth finally closed. "There, you were very strong. Thank you for working with me." The man smiled and bowed to me.He stayed for a few minutes looking at my face. The next day, my mother came again. She didn't scream.She sat next to me, placed her palm on my forehead. I could feel the warmth. If I could, I wouldopen my eyes and smile. [End Page 101] A House's View It feels strange to become a boat.I was the house for a fisherman's family for five generations. The men got up early while the outside was dark,fished all day and came home. They took hot baths in my tuband slept on my tatami floor. Sinking down into the ocean, I am filledwith the scent of their hands. [End Page 102] Fishes' View At first, we thought that the carcassof a whale was falling upon us so wescattered and waited for our feast. Instead, the shadow was a housewhich planted itselfon the ocean floor. When we looked up,more houses were sinking toward us. Is this the kingdom of God? Just in case,we gathered and swam in circles. [End Page 103] Yuko Taniguchi YUKO TANIGUCHI is a poet, novelist, and creative collaborator who explores the intersection of healing and creative process with writers, artists, and healthcare professionals. Taniguchi is the author of the poetry collection Foreign Wife Elegy, published in 2004, and a novel, The Ocean in the Closet, published by Coffee House Press in 2007. She teaches at the University of Minnesota Rochester. Copyright © 2022 University of North Carolina Wilmington