Trigger Warning: Mentions violence and sexual assault.

The last time I saw you,

You were on my Twitter feed.

I thought someone found my mom’s

Face

Like some Tinder guy had an Asian fetish and

DMed me for “pics.”

I tried to blur out your legs, bloody legs

Or how many lightbulbs Hiroshi boy tried

To shove into you.

No, you said.

Revenge, Hiroshi boy heard.

His friends burned a trail from

The tip of your clitoris to your pupils

Before you had a plan to escape.

I just blocked my classmate from high school

On Instagram, praying he won’t find me again.

I could’ve met your daughter.

She would’ve had your tongue,

Marching through the streets of Kyoto

In the #MeToo movement

As that Hiroshi boy hid behind the deep corners

Of the alleyway

And your daughter grabs him by the collar

Like he did when he dragged you from

That street you biked pass every day

Making him see the scars he marked on her mother

On women with your face,

Junko,

Your face has imprinted on my timeline.

When I close my eyes,

I picture you in that uniform you wore

In your school photo.

The last time you were happy.

If only you were here.