‘Let us go insect-hunting tonight,’ the poet said. ‘It will be dark and I have many lanterns ready.’
do not
leave the city
cicadas and crickets
in bamboo cages
eating melon rind
singing about melon
on a spring night
Kiriyama hears
still, small voices
risen from clay
a ghost-song in the jar
where our parents died
Kiriyama hears
still, small voices
risen from clay
a ghost-song in the jar
where our parents died
and at my funeral
the cage will open
but instead of insects
lizards and birds
singing
