Mariko Kitakubo

                                                               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      





                             "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