You come and go with no traces left
as the flame of my heart rises and falls
You laugh and cry with no sounds heard
as the beat of my heart waxes and wanes
Distressed in the wake of a dream
I hear time passing in the sound of snow
Winter 2010 issue of Rust+Moth.
Poetic Musings: Cosmetics Tanka by Margaret Chula
-
those half-used tubes
of her cosmetics
why did I keep them?
rubbing in face cream
I feel my mother’s bones
*Winter Deepens*, 2018
Margaret Chula
Commenta...
