a V of wild geese
soar into the sky
voices dripping with grief
drive me to walk
the rising harvest moon
weeps in silence
the cold mouth of night
utters no single word
Spring issue of Rust+Moth
A Room of My Own: Parting Words Tanka
-
so much of life
grows clearer with the years —
her parting words
yet grit like sand in my mouth
whenever I repeat them
*Added: *
newly divorced
I stare at...
