A Tanka Sequence
she and I
sit across the table
in the morning
bearing the silence
of another new year
separated
and yet living quietly
under the same roof
we used to share
a ripe pomegranate
she can’t stand me
even in a photo
bits and pieces
of our honeymoon
drifting into the dark
Atlas Poetica, 21, 2015
A Room of My Own: No-Bullshit Air Tanka
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*Yellowing Memories, *VI
first class reunion:
each one looks almost the same
just older,
except this bully-turned-priest
with a no-bullshit air
FYI: My ta...