Like Coldness

An afternoon without sun,
like coldness
warming your skin
in an open pier,

and your smile-
sweet as sweet,
a tease of your lips,
a constant reminder

with each memory.

Setsuko

(after watching Isao Takahata's Grave of Fireflies for the 10th time)





as bombs hum their lullaby-



you are there, in the dark,

alone.



sucking on marbles like

sakuma drops,



your eyes sunken not with

hunger but with longing.



above a hill, Seita catches

his breath wondering if you're safe,



as bombs hum their lullaby.