Brittle banks of ice
Against my taunting toe,
Cracking and seething
To be so uproariously
   trampled.

Against the yellow
Of the setting sun
Through a smog that
Lays thick across the
   horizon

Jets of black trees
Shoot dark into the sky,
Mimicking the wind
In their jostled, whipped
   frenzy.

The wind that churns
The bowing branches
Bites the lobes of
My ears, uncovered an...

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Hair black as midnight,
Kimono sleeves whispering of plum;
Haiku she breathes to me
Beneath the yellow moon.

She says I need to see Tokyo,
And Kyoto in the rain.
I say, "I’ll go if you’re there—"
I’ll say anything.

She draws pictures of Mount Fuji
In charcoal, and puts them
All over the house,
Knowing I’ll see them

And remember the color of the mist,
And the smell of incense
Wh...

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