Poetry / November 2011 (Issue 15)

A Samurai's Pink House

by Sonia Saikaley

In a shroud of blackness, I peer out my window
across the road, a pink house stands abandoned.
Shadows stir behind broken shutters
I wonder if it is a samurai ghost,
a seppuku victim still oozing blood turned pink
stucco cracked with battlefield or earthquake scars
along my own belly remind me of
the child whispering sensei behind a plum tree
a slice of pale orange fruit in her small hands
I almost wept thinking of the youngster
lost in my diseased womb, cut out years ago
a flash across the way, I imagine the samurai's sword
over belly flesh, in the lonely house
slivers of moonlight shimmer on the moving blade
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