five years now

                                                               since I sat there

                                                               with mother

                                                               supping on noodles

                                                               flavoured with citron

 

 

                                                               the sea canyon

                                                               is silently weeping

                                                               as I cross

                                                               concealing my sickness

                                                               within me 

                

 

                                                               my boy is growing

                                                               to look like my father

                                                               who abandoned me―

                                                               I try not to mind

                                                               God's carelessness     
 

 

 

                                                               every night

                                                               mist wreathes the bay

                                                               then vanishes―

                                                               the anniversary

                                                               of mother's passing nears

 

 

                                                              I'm changing

                                                              my brown watchband

                                                              for a pale green one―

                                                              off to visit

                                                              a seaside sanatorium     

 

 

                                                              tonight, only those

                                                              who have passed away

                                                              come to me . . .

                                                              "autumn, now," I mumble

                                                              grinding coffee beans      

 

 

 

                             Credits:

                             "blue mists" (On the TO Main Page) The Tanka Journal, No. 34, 2009                        
                             "five years now"  Eucalypt, Issue5, 2008
                             "the sea canyon" Eucalypt, Issue5, 2008
                             "my boy is growing" Ribbons,Vol. 4 No.4, Winter, 2008
                             "every night" The Tanka Journal, No. 34, 2009
                             "I'm changing" The Tanka Journal, No. 33, 2009
                             "tonight, only those" The Tanka Journal, No.33, 2009

 

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