What would I know
that the moon hasn’t seen
underneath it’s shimmering glow
by the water.
The shadows in the sand made by feet
remind me of us
hand in hand, and how we used to be.
and now how we faltered.
Another night drinking with memories…
by the moonlight.
At the bend in the Kamehameha Highway
just past the shrimp truck and shave-ice shack
my cabdriver smokes and glares. Waits.
I’m leaving my island home now, just
one last look back at the Pali cliffs.
It was dangerous to live here so long.
The years rolled backward
and I became a spear thrower,
suspicious of change.
I noticed years passing when my hands
suddenly looked older,
skyscrapers obliterated
the Ko’olaus. Goodbye, then.
Mahalo, Marcia, friend from my youth.
We saw our aging bodies reflected
in the other’s glances, and
discreetly looked away.
To my mother Sara—
your ashes have joined
the Pacific by now, small birds
in the refuge have swallowed you.
My sisters and I will wait for you
in our small twin beds, willing
your yellow hair to fall
across our faces at night,
the storybook open in your hands.
I think you’re right, Nora.
There must be a Man in the Moon
and a Man in the Sun
changing light bulbs all day long.
They are shy gentlemen
the garden gnome said yesterday.
A smile from you, I’m sure,
would make them blush.
The Man in the Moon
might hide behind a cloud
and the Man in the Sun
might dive behind a star.
But now and then
both of them would peek to see
if Nora ever smiles again.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com/.
What more can I say?
This beautiful woman
lived in my house
and now she is gone,
sailing or flying,
swimming or walking.
I don’t know where.
So please,
tell the woman
I live with now
it’s time again
to drop the paisley
over the parakeet.
I’ll be upstairs,
tell her,
getting ready for bed.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com/.