Poems from tokii
the itch at my ear
the soft thrum, the familiar tone
it's
the voice faded from memory
the cooing lost from dreams when nights were still...
Engraving on the hilt inlaid with gold
Newly daubed with tar of flesh and bone
A ruddy smearing on the blade
Tearing ‘tween muscle, marrow...
It follows us, mockingly
Ever remembering
Persistent, a most ruinous companion
It’s funny, isn’t it?
Our past
And this little game we play...
Leaking, flowing, splashing
over my fingertips, spilling at my feet
Spirit bleeding
Joy fleeting
fleeing
falling
into the impassive...
I believe we may have missed it
the year of reconciliation
The prospect of harmony, of order
Just a smidgen from symmetry
the precarious...