Buddhist temple, Tokyo
One cry from a lone bird over a misted river
is the expression of grief,
in Japanese. Let women
do what they need.
And afterwards knit a red cap, pray—
In long rows, stone children in bibs and hats, the smell of pine and cooled
It was a temple
for the babied dead. I found it via the Internet.
Where they offered pinwheels
and bags of sweets
for the aborted ones, or ones who’d lived
but not enough…
Moss-smell, I can project there.
pinking the water.
When her lord asked her again how it died, she said
As an echo off the cliffs of Kegon.
ukiyo: in Japanese it sounds like “Sorrowful World”
winds trying to hold each other
in silken robes
what in English sounds like “Floating World”
a joke on the six realms in which we tarry
what they called the “Sorrowful World”:
wheel made of winds
trying to cling to each other