a tiger tale

a tiger tale
for her born in the year of

Acknowledgements for use of this image to: http://www.animalplanet.com/wild-animals/endangered-species/amur-tiger/

the baker said
‘i will break your
bread in my hands
and find your
fragrance with
greedy fingers,
your wine will
sing in my glass’,
she purred in
demur and whistled
between fangs of
new moon
‘my coat would
burn your hand
in touch, better
you flatter those
at the fat counter
of your eyes.
be content with
the coin of smile’,

the builder said
‘i will build you
a cage of finest woods,
that smell with
memories of bird
and beast and
you will stay
within my cool
and painted walls,

tea at night

tea at night
dedicated to Okakura, Kazuko

in the
cold i drink
a cup of tea
to taste the
warmth
not of
heated water
that soon
cools,
rather,
the bitter
growth in sun
that sweetens
in being
picked,
to know
in taste
that we found
something better
than simply
what the well
could offer
in buckets,

third person

third person

Acknowledgements to partycity.com for use of this image taken from their product catalogue.

try
as we might
to speak to
to the
‘you’,
to address the
‘you’ of the
departed,
the hedge
once climbed
through
in touch
in talk
toward
the heart of
that ‘you’,
in its own sun
of orchard self,
now lashings
of thorn
around a
failed garden,
though we call
upon that ‘you’
we know the shift
in night rains, the
branch that scrapes