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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