“Sakoku”

by Stephen S. Power

Laden with sunlight, the doug-firs have bent.

Even your shadow gives off a bright scent.

Noon is a bride; midnight, her dowry.

Striped by the dusk, the eggs look like cowries.

A spreading white sea is chastened by rain

The boats seem so still, but how their lines strain.

Where the tree rose, lie humps of rough moss.

Your cat’s careful footprints fade with the frost

The sparrow still sings outside my locked door.

Bowls filled with bowls, all yawning for more.

Fresh wallpaper squares are framed with old grime.

A stairway grows steeper given some time.

Icicles draw off morning’s blue glow.

Spring is a carcass poking through snow.

---