Seven Haiku from my Grandmother
in the Kawabe House
-- for Sayoko Toda
Knock, knock on room door—
peeking through a keyhole, I
see another eye.
*****
Elder person’s room—
everyone fascinated
with the poinsettia.
*****
Face after face stare
back. I shrug. My weak hearing
makes talking look odd.
*****
Lip licking around
me—people gossip, tasting
many distressed words.
*****
Autumn yellow leaves—
thin sun—only one sudden
night of wind. All gone.
*****
Early, I wake—cold.
The comforter escaped, not
staying on my back.
*****
Coins in our pockets
come and go, gains and losses—
a parallel line.