
Directions
we cannot be together.
this I know.
and yet, and yet
when I close my eyes
I feel your lips against mine
your warm grip around my waist
I breathe in the scent of your hair
I am steering round and round that one roundabout in your hometown you described
unable to turn off and move forward
waiting one more minute before I indicate
and drive out into the world without you
The End
and when you say it’s over
there’s relief at fear and adrenaline
dissipated but still, it’s an emptiness –
hollow, and no one to share it with.
(did it happen if no-one knows?)
no photos, because it can’t be evidenced.
I dig a trench: in it I place
a handful of poems and
memories of moments shared in the early hours
stored only in our minds.
I shovel in sand, so that
even someone walking barefoot
wouldn’t notice a thing –
only waves lapping at a serene shore
as they stare at where the sea meets the sky,
at depths filled with secrets we’ll never know.
Les Mains Sales
during the French trip / mrs miyamoto’s wallet was snatched on the Métro / when we asked how / mrs sakai said someone had their hands somewhere they shouldn’t to distract her / i’ve wondered why they didn’t say A MAN SEXUALLY ASSAULTED MRS MIYAMOTO / because concrete words would have been less terrifying than someone, somewhere doing something / she could have taught us something more valuable than any grammar rule:
Say what happened.
It wasn’t your fault.
Nothing else matters.
Bio:
Tamiko read Latin and French at New College, Oxford. She was the winner of the BBC Radio 3 carol competition 2021. Previous publications include “SHIMA (Islands)” (Alien Buddha Press, 2022), “Seasons of Love Around the Rising Sun” (Broken Sleep Books, 2023), “The Japanese House” (Cephalo Press, 2023), and “Gakusei (The Schoolgirl)” (Audience Askew, 2024). Her poem “Yurushi” was broadcast on BBC Radio 3 as one of their Friday poems in August 2023.
https://linktr.ee/tamiko_dooley
X: @tamiko_dooley
Instagram: @dooleytamiko


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