the subway at rush hour—
bodies pressed like books on a shelf
spines touching, pages closed

my mother's voice on the phone says okaeri
but I haven't gone anywhere
just stood in my kitchen, bare feet on cold tile

the translator's dilemma:
does 懐かしい mean nostalgia
or the ache of something
you never had to begin with?

---

I practice my father's language
in the shower, where no one can hear
the way I still get the pitch wrong
after all these years

some days I am fluent in leaving
other days I am a beginner
at staying

the word home in English
has one syllable
ホーム in Japanese takes two

this is not a metaphor
just a fact about mouths
and how they shape longing

---

at the convenience store, 3 AM
fluorescent light on instant ramen
the clerk and I exchange
the smallest possible transaction:
arigatou gozaimasu
you're welcome

later I will think about
how we both bowed slightly
how neither of us needed to
how we did it anyway

this is not a poem about isolation
or connection—maybe it's about
the thin membrane between them
how sometimes you can see through it
to the person on the other side
restocking shelves, just
trying to get through the night

#poetry #identity #bilingual #belonging