by Shareen K. Murayama
I thought it was a trick
of the eye, when two light waves
complement each other,
strengthening their reflection
painting rainbows in soap bubbles,
on butterfly wings, and seashells.
At the beach, a girl tells her friend: “She’s
not just Asian; she’s white. That’s why
you like her.” She cautioned against
pitfalls and flaws. How falling for types
is dangerous, it usually almost
always breaks us.
It’s a phenomenon, iridescence,
more than an optical curiosity.
Its exotic lustre helps us recognize
our same species, choose mates,
and, sometimes, evade predators.
Shareen K. Murayama is a Japanese American, Okinawan American poet and educator. She’s a 2021 Best Microfiction winner as well as a poetry reader for The Adroit Journal. Her art is published or forthcoming in Pilgrimage Press, The Margins, MORIA, Juked, Bamboo Ridge, Puerto del Sol, and elsewhere. You can find her on IG & Twitter @ambusypoeming.
Hawaii Pacific Review 