It’s not my hands that are shaking—it’s my mind.
Cut off my head!
That’s where the pain lies.

Mishima believed sincerity was found in the entrails.
This must be a mistranslation.
I think he meant reality.

Hope is the dark part of morning,
The trees and not the sky behind.
A glimmer without a color.

Most people want justice
But in absence of justice
They will take vengeance.

As if dying was peak existence.
We called it sweet
In the cherry season of history.

Elisa Gabbert