Mariko Kitakubo


                                                                 are following me
                                                                 they bring darkness
                                                                 from the cliff
                                                                 of Okinawa

                                                                 maple seeds
                                                                 are fluttering and
                                                                 children are gone 
                                                                 to the civil war again

                                                                 between the dates
                                                                 of Hiroshima & Nagasaki
                                                                 my sweat seeps
                                                                 into the small puncture hole
                                                                 where they drew my blood       

                                                                 oh, yes,
                                                                 they are still crying--
                                                                 Pearl Harbour
                                                                 inside of Linda
                                                                 Okinawa inside of me   

                                                                 over the battlefield 
                                                                 the moon is waning
                                                                 little by little
                                                                 I decay and
                                                                 I lose myself too

                                                                 I watch
                                                                 a drop of poison
                                                                 turn transparent
                                                                 look to the half moon,
                                                                 where my mother now lives

                                                                are the redwood trees
                                                                in the depth of this forest
                                                                one thousand years old?
                                                                there is a silence
                                                                beyond my hearing

                                                                I feel the plight
                                                                of endangered creatures
                                                                on this planet,
                                                                like they're looking at me
                                                                with my child's eyes



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