That’s the knife called: She Slits Open.
Once I sang that I’d slice open my gut,
reach in and drag out loops of intestine
if it ever got that bad. Before smut
and my sonnets I lived in Las Vegas,
crossroad of ghosts. I carried her with me
all the time: at the Shrine of the Goddess,
in class, at the gym. I was one sissy
hellbent on going out like Mishima.
Honor is queer, though: once it got that bad
only survival could prove them all wrong —
prove my fey soul is strong — Cosmic Vulva
strong — strong as the ghosts calling me comrade.
Stronger than this old belly-slitting song.
Yukio Mishima was a Japanese author and literary luminary, obsessed with beauty, homoeroticism and death. On November 25, 1970, Mishima and four members of his secret militia entered a military base in central Tokyo, took the commandant hostage and tried to persuade the soldiers there to join in overthrowing the new pacifist government in a coup d’etat. When this was unsuccessful, Mishima committed seppuku, ritual suicide by cutting open his belly.