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Modern English Tanka  

meeting again
in the middle of a crowd
we hugged . . .
a smile to melt the winter
he stayed the night
 

in faint light
on the edge of waking
I curl closer . . .
slowly, gently slipping
into your dream
 

your rhythm
pressing into me
in the sand . . .
sunday’s sun hangs low
the sea take on its fire
 

plovers cry out
their shadows rising
in waves . . .
slowly he tastes the salt
in the curve of her neck 
 

all the years
of fitting our bodies together
and still
heat spirals at your touch
. . . your mouth, magic
 

sparking memories,
I talk about the children
and in the quiet
I touch your cheek’s curve . . .
how could you forget my name?    
 

in the hospice
she whispers “hold me”
and pressing
into the beat of my heart
she lets go . . .
 

looking up,
mother loved the night sky;
her eyes smiling . . .
can I open her grave
to let the starlight in?
 

© 2007 Carol Raisfeld