hanahaki

Jordan Aramitz

"何かが消えてしまったという感覚だけが、目覚めてからも、長く、残る
(The sensation that I've lost something lingers for a long time after I wake up.)"
- Your Name, 2016

Last spring, I ventured into old woods
to find the dryad I had once loved.
Raised by wolves and other thieves,
she was a mononoke; my haunter.
Her eyes bold, she bound my hands
to hers with a chain of marigolds.

The trees she planted in my mind
intertwined our bones together.
Towering beasts of goldenbirch,
their branches burst through
hairline cracks and into my lungs.
For her, growing wild took elegance

but I was a wilting, destitute wreck.
Still, her warmth kept root as
we slow danced for the sweet rot
germinating between us. For the
lilting decay flooded with jealousy
as pure as freshly silted snow.

a kintsugi vase filled with cut
stems of misplaced hope.
a lifeline drop of water,
resuscitation,
resuscitation.
i am hers once again.

Surgeons could dig her out of me.
Have my haemorrhaged bouquets
be memories tossed into jars on
windowsills. I could gift the buds
to careful florists, one by one, until
the last of her has been uprooted.

But the chain of Japanese marigolds
tattooed on her shoulder still bind
my hands. Her eyes cold, she asks
how she should auction off my
once-floral rib cage. Heartbreak is a
goldmine and my heartbeat her prize.

I can give her nothing but a bittersweet
smile. I am a wilting, destitute wreck
with vines fleeting through my hair,
with bloodied marigolds in my mouth.
Meeting her was a terminal upheaval
and I have just coughed up the last petal.

this december courts a dying earth;
a mononoke's cruellest season.
the skeleton trees show
no sign of spring but
i wish i was hers once again.

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Jordan Aramitz is an author and poet studying at the University of East Anglia. Her work explores the themes of unorthodox relationships and magical surrealism through the lens of the British-Asian identity. Her work has featured in publications such as Bandit Fiction and CityLife.

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