Poetry / December 2013 (Issue 22)
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by Elizabeth Schultz
No one heard us enter the Temple Where Blue Begins. We noted the small basket, its spray of azalea, a stone with its hollow of water. We slid glass shoji open to see a camellia drifting by, a mid-day moon, on a stream of azure moss, and no one heard us leave. |
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Cha: An Asian Literary Journal 2007-2018
ISSN 1999-5032
All poems, stories and other contributions copyright to their respective authors unless otherwise noted.