Friday, March 1, 2013

Sickle moon tan renga

red mark
on her coffee cup
deepening silence

nothing we talked about
but the sickle moon

in the round
ascending tones of
angelic voices

bamboo leaves shake
and bend the sunlight

a sudden gust of wind
brings the rain to land
a kiss of longing

in the shiver on my hand
the shake of our hands

running and laughing
kiddies play hide and seek
amber evening

I am the clouds
chasing sunset


Damian Alma
Wahyu W. Basjir

First published in A Hundred Gourds 2:2 March 2013

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