The Rains of Sendai


The night rains of Sendai beat down awake
and alive as I am. Six months in this land
and everything seems unsettled.
Rusty hinges open next door, someone
leaves or returns. I don’t know which.
Tomorrow I’ll walk to work, past ten-thousand faces.
Tonight I lay awake again, the sounds
of native television reverberate.
Foreign ears cannot sleep.

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