Orchards Read Free

out
    halfway up the hill
    if we reach the grove too soon
    we wait for the song to end
    and change to another song
    before turning off the engine
    to join Aunt and Uncle
    thinning excess fruit
    from the trees
     
    Uncle gives me cotton gloves
    and shows me how to thin clusters of
    cherry-size
mikan
    that I pick and let drop
    hard and green
    they crunch underfoot
    I learn to leave
    only five of the best
    to mature
     
    as Aunt, Uncle, Koichi and I
    work a row of trees
    sometimes we talk
    and Aunt asks about
    my classes
    in Japan
    my classes
    in New York
    my home in New York
    my mother’s business
    my sister’s love of running
    even my father’s work in
    county court
    but not about
    you
     

    I know they know
    about you and I know
    they know I was one of those
    labeled
at risk
    referred for further counseling
    and sessions where
    time and again
    I was asked
    how are you feeling?
    are you sleeping?
    what are you thinking?
    there I tried to talk
    there counselors listened
    but here in Kohama
    no one seems to know
    how to talk
    about you
    including me
     
    I start to grow more used
    to the work
    the endless stretch of time
    in the groves
    the breezes
    the sound of fruit dropping
    the scent of citrus rot underfoot
    the quiet
    interrupted by crows
    but not the constant
    thoughts
    of you
     

I n my middle school homeroom
    one girl with straight
    old-fashioned bangs
    and a skirt too long
    is an outcast—
    I know the posture
    hear comments
    cruel whispers
    girls drop things
    touched
    by her
    say they’re
              polluted
     
    but because of you, Ruth,
    I take action
    catch up
    to walk with her
    reaching out
    as school counselors would say
    letting her know I care
    trying a random conversation
    all those things
    they told us to do
     
    but instead of opening up to me
    instead of warming to me
    instead of reaching out
    in return
    she pivots
    and walks
    away
     
    after that
    not everyone is so eager
    to get to know
    this New Yorker
    not everyone so hot
    to try their English
    I don’t care
    groups don’t matter
    so much to me now
    maybe because I know
    most atoms
    aren’t as stable
    as they seem
     
    every day
    I watch the clock
    wait for the bell
    when I can be excused
    mount my bike
    and cycle “home”
    to drink cold tea
              snack in secret
                     sneak a listen
    and join Koichi in the truck
    blasting the radio
    as we drive up
    narrow tracks of steep road
    high up into the groves
    to work through rows of trees
    thinning unneeded fruit
     
    hours of
    snapping off
    and dropping fruit
    snapping off
    and dropping fruit
    talking through branches and leaves
    and
    during talk
    and
    in between talk
    thinking of you
    till the five o’clock chimes
     
    thinking
    should I have said something when I saw you at the mall?
    should I have sat across from you at lunch in the cafeteria?
    should I have invited you to be in my group in science
    or my critique partner in art?
    thinking
    should I have
    when it seemed
    by the way you
    held yourself apart
    that you didn’t care?
    when it seemed
    that you didn’t want me
    or anyone else
    to go out of our way
    to have anything to do
    with you?
    Except
              that is
    for Jake
     
    my legs ache
    from squatting down for low branches
    my arms ache
    from reaching up
    some days I want to chuck
    the fruit
    kick the rot
    I don’t know why my parents thought
    this would be good
    how they could think
    it would be right
    to go away
    be far away
              from Emi
              from friends
              from home
     
    but my mother
    and most of Kohama
    seem to agree
    the solution to
    any kind of problem
    of any magnitude
    is physical labor
    sore muscles
    blisters
    WORK
     

I n the evenings
    before she sleeps, Yurie
    lets me use her computer—
    laptop on a low table,
    zabuton
cushion for a seat
    but my evening
    is early morning east coast U. S.
    and no one is online at six a.m.
    or seven
    or even eight
    except