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rain-washed sky ~
the mountains
between us
much smaller
in this starlight
***************
plum blossoms
falling on my sleeve ~
greeting you with joy
I already dread
the hour when you will leave
***************
only when you
have left the room
do I notice
that the flowers
are fake
****************
humming softly
you always bathe
before love
suffusing my sheets
with sweet-scented steam
*****************
crescent moon
defines the pale edge
of driftwood
gleaming coldly
my discarded wedding dress
The Tanka Journal (Japan) No. 22 2003
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