Samurai mother
Excerpts included in And now the weather at Logan Center Exhibitions, 2020
Excerpts included in Springfest hosted by FOTA, 2019

I am born red
And shriveled as an old monkey.
Oh how extraordinary is my entrance
Into the warm landscape
Of my mother’s natal home.

I am folded at right angles and starched.
I am lain one atop the other and smoothed.
I am also kneaded and groomed
In the fashion of love.

But it is painful to grow,
And especially to one day find myself
A human woman.

A mound of earth.
Recurring as if memorial, even of my own memory.
Many ways to be cut down.

I fold at right angles and starch.
I lay one atop the other and smooth.
I also learn my way around a long weapon
In the fashion of defense.

A mother’s wisdom newly tells me
The sword is only sharper than a kitchen knife
Because it has encountered fewer hard radishes.

Even when it is cloudy
There is every morning a rising sun.
This much is undeniable.
How long will this sun stay in my sky?

This much is in question,
And I wonder whether there is much violence
On the other side of the distant line.



Sleep 1, 2019.

Sleep 2, 2019.

Sleep 3, 2019.