hibachi 

theater of my body on blue fire--

hot oiled & slick--

meet me on the gas-powered griddle--
feet charring-- the wavering 
rush of flame--

we were tongue voyagers--

teeth tearing tire &
asphalt--

when i was ten we discovered
a hibachi grill--

mesmerized by the thrill of heat--

clang of spatula &

ringing of knives-- slicing 
yolk into rice--

onion breathing fire--

as i got older i opened
my mouth like that-- alone
on the stage of my
bedroom floor--

mouth burning the curtains--
smoke to the ceiling--

this was so common for
me that my father had taken out
the fire alarms-- 

learned to crouch on
all fours & wait for
the smoke to pass--

everything was hibachi--
& i grew thinner in 
the wake of salt--

spinning of the egg--
my body a compass of
inevitable rupture-- 

& you watched me-- hungry-- 

chicken & shrimp snapping
at my ankles--

the floor cooking
me evenly

but in spectacle--

growing up was a 
hot reverberation--

a series of dinner 
with napkins in our laps--

take a handful of chopsticks 
home & use them as fangs--

& i took my mother's
knives & practiced 
on the grill--

the sun to be cracked
for the last time--

bouncing on the 
end of the spatula &

the car is in the driveway 
waiting to drive us 
to thanksgiving
dinner but i'm not ready--

i'm eating communion 
wafers dipped in oil--

chewing stalks of
celery while the home
fills with the smell 
of fried rice & teriyaki--

you claw at my door
with forks--

digging into the wood--

my brother with 
the broken glass 
of water-- standing in
the middle of the kitchen floor--

shards surrounding him--

he won't move--

we left the oven on--

was it you filling my mouth 
with green tea ice cream--

fat spoonfuls spat &
sizzling on the floor  

door off it's hinge--

you find me on my
knees--

becoming a volcano--

eggs suicide smashed 
all around me 

a cardinal smacks against
the window--

& down stairs glass
slices into his heel--

the blood comes from
the ceiling--

the origin of
the knives is not important 

but they ring themselves like bells--

the door cuts us--

& i'm safe for now

there's no more silverware