Or: The Last Will
by Yukari Kousaka
Translated by Toshiya Kamei
Every time a letter arrives to herald the summer sky, my fingertips freeze while time remains clarified. Your shadow hovers over the well of drawn memory. Plants sprouting from the earth tangle and crawl, choking me to death before I can reach out. You were right about the impending doom. Even if I awake to find you gone, I could keep on living without breathing ever again. I want to write while letting out a sigh. In the hope that you will find me someday, I dwell at the bottom of the radio. When night comes, death falls and accumulates on me. In the end, I could return to the coordinate origin. All stories come with rules. I follow close behind you without knowing why. I weave stories that can’t be stopped. Even if I awake to find you gone, even if my palms get cold, I could keep on living without breathing. I want to write while letting out a sigh. A sheet of paper traps everything I want to say. All the thoughts that have dissolved in water flow downstream, and I want to disappear like a scene changes, hoping that you will find me someday. Cacophonies wait for me at the bottom of the radio.
Born in Osaka in 2001, YUKARI KOUSAKA is a Japanese poet, fiction writer, and essayist. Translated by Toshiya Kamei, her short fiction has appeared in New World Writing. Click here to hear the author reading this piece in Japanese.
