Goro Takano


Ear

An ear found itself all alone at length when 
a pair of metallic tweezers appeared before
it to clean up all the wax in its own deep hole

The rest of the elements the ear had teamed
with to form a human body, such as a mouth
or eyes or a nose or a neck or limbs or a torso

or the ear’s best mate (that is, the other ear)
were nowhere to be seen --- probably it was
the work of chance --- perhaps, to begin with

chance had spawned and reared the solitary
ear and led it into this fateful encounter with
the tweezers --- as soon as the ear decided to

shoulder all chance had done for it, its sense
of time thickened --- to evoke an old memory
of what the entire body of its host had looked

like, first, the ear awaked an image of its best
mate, which loomed up with somebody’s thin
lips --- the lips approached the other ear and

whispered: “Truly good people are not aware
of their goodness at all, while bad people are
conscious of their goodness --- if you’re truly

a good person, you will always have to doubt
your goodness, always tolerate the badness of
others, and keep saying no to your every deed”

The ear noted the tips of the tweezers estimating
closely how much of wax they could draw from
the ear’s bottom --- a wail of lament swirled in

the ear: “If this encounter were a mere fiction, I
might be still peacefully in the body of my host”
Chance didn’t allow the ear to bask in such fancy

The mouth on the host’s face used to say: “If you
want to appreciate every moment of your life and
die a good death, you need none other than outrage”

The tweezers started stripping deliberately some
wax off the ear’s inner walls, while the owner of 
the hand handling the metal instrument muttered:

“If someone asks me what kind of person you are
I will say this way --- you’re an imaginary average
man, because you’re an average value in any data

You don’t belong anywhere except to the world of
data --- you’re nobody, so you can transcend time
and connect to anyone in any past or future period” 

A long time ago someone’s long tongue had licked
the ear gently and said: “Your filth is on the level of
a developing nation --- however, if you insist it is

your homeland’s proud tradition, I cannot impose
the beauty of my country’s developed civilization
on your life” --- somebody else’s hand had covered

the ear long ago and said: “A new life in my womb
has no name yet, and I won’t show you my genuine
intention to slay this obscurity to safeguard my life”

The ear pondered over how it had been connected
to the rest of the host’s organs via untold lanes and
alleys before its sinking into the absolute solitude

As if to confirm the ongoing presence of the lost
the ear elevated its hearing up to the limit in vain
The ear wondered why its host had chosen a path

to going all to pieces --- hadn’t it chosen to throw
itself into a war totally unrelated to its homeland
only to change its own life? --- hadn’t it chosen to

discard every part of its body except for its brain
and live as a mere consciousness-transplant brain
in a laboratory machine? --- there was a trace of

someone’s voice on the surface of the big earwax
removed by the tweezers: “Are you still believing
a unified theory for the explanation of the entire

universe is as extractable as this wax? --- my god!”
“Mankind abandoned me,” the ear thought to itself
and fantasized about human eyes which would gasp

with a start while searching an out-of-date telephone
book for their host’s own full name, for every name
on it is that of the dead and buried without exception

A loud voice resounded in the depth of the earhole
and surprised the ear itself: “Can you imagine who
created you and the tweezers? --- I did! --- you all

are now in the story I created --- thanks to me, you
can exist permanently --- why are you scheming to
oust me from here?” --- the tweezers’ tips moved to

the source of the voice carefully and slowly and
captured it --- pulled out of the hole was a dying
fly --- leaking out of its death-throe-like buzz was

a whisper: “You swore you would keep loving me
You must keep that promise forever, no matter how
warped and decayed my body and face may end up”

Once the buzz stopped, the tweezers also vanished
The hearing of the cleaned-out ear got even acuter
Previously unheard voices came down to it clearly

from its right and left --- a right-hand voice went:
“Authority was always after my life --- so I had to
abandon my family and keep hiding myself --- but

I couldn’t stand it anymore that day --- I lurked in
the shadows and had a peak at my family’s privacy
Then suddenly” --- a left-hand voice went: “I will

never forget that man --- he compelled me to wear
a Hollywood-actress-like handsome makeup at all
times, even during my sleep --- he never ever let me

take it off --- I couldn’t stand it anymore that day
As soon as I took off my makeup, he called me a
betrayer and started to rave at me --- and --- and”

The ear didn’t know yet --- millions of ears like it
or its best mate were lined up on either side of it
What would it have said if it had noticed that fact?

Wouldn’t it have called it another work of chance?

Born in the city of Hiroshima, Japan, Goro Takano is an associate professor in the Faculty of Medicine at Saga University, Japan, where he teaches English to Japanese medical students. His past poetry collections published through BlazeVOX (New York) are Responsibilities of the Obsessed (2013), Silent Whistle-Blowers (2015), Non Sequitur Syndrome (2018), and Sunday Double Suicide (2022). On Lost Sheep, Takano’s translation of the works of the Japanese modernist poet Shiro Murano, was published in 2017 through Tinfish (Honolulu). Takano’s first Japanese-only poetry collection Nichiyo-bi no Shinju (Sunday Double Suicide) and his second Japanese-only Hyaku-nen Tattara Aimasho (Why Don't We Meet Again A Hundred Years Later?) were published through Karan-sha (Fukuoka, Japan) in 2019 and 2021, respectively.

 
 

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