by Sharon Hashimoto

 

          -- 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.