February 20, 2015

Crumbs of Remembrance

For the time I can no longer taste

A chipped glass, the meaninglessness
of numbers that frame
a broken clock and a solitary ant
resting on a grain of rice watch me as
I take a sip of cold sake.

My lips linger on the rim
of the glass while the moon prepares
to take the sun’s place.
The sky darkens…
            (Time’s way of seeking attention.)
I can’t see my memories
in this dimly lit room,
though I wonder if more light would
improve my vision.

The ant is now carrying a breadcrumb
and I think of you,
your fear of ants.
Memories are a trail of crumbs
that leads me to…


A land of bygone days where
everything has decayed, yet mistaken
for freshness/
another chance.

I look down at my empty glass,
and I hear your voice.
“You’re not supposed to be here.
Neither am I.
But I’ll see you tomorrow.
Should I bake bread or cookies?”