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Tanka Series
Pick-Up_Sticks
Karina Klesko,
US and Cindy Tebo, US
rolling hills
heightened
in twilight's glow
the baying of dogs —
within her eyes a tempest
hunts the night
if pain
could be slept away
I would join the 3-toed sloth
high in the treetops
dreaming of other sloths
a cradle swings
to an old lullaby —
round and round
the mobile's blue planes
move slower and slower
in the odds and ends
of make believe
the clay knight
off to battle
with a penny for its shield
throwaway children
living in cardboard cities
until the rain. . . .
they pick-up-sticks
to build a fire of hope
hoarding sweet rolls
under his pillow
the dementia patient
tells the nurse
he's a wealthy man
scissors, paper, rock
we try to decide;
is there a "u" in color?
those white-haired men
preparing our meds
on the floor
of a teenager's room
a Jimi Hendrix CD
how close do you have to be
to kiss the sky?
one more
for the long wet road
the Cutty Sark sails on
leaving behind an unborn sun
and a note in a bottle
Easter breakfast
without Mom
my sister orders
Eggs Benedict
for the first and last time
out from the basement
those little dust bunnies
growing fangs
too big for peter rabbit
the torn jacket
hung on a fence post
This Tanka
Series first appeared in Lynx:
SYMBIOTIC XIX:2 June, 2004
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Tanka Series
No Quarters For
Candles
Karina Klesko,
US and Cindy Tebo, US
old rain and fog
deepening the pond
layers upon layers
we talk about her divorce
and then we talk about mine
on a float trip
we pass the hours
without speaking
he rows one way
and I row the other
the storm
has washed the sun's face
more vivid is this day
of separation
my eyes a darker blue
beyond the yellow leaves
of thinning catalpa
almost a year
since he rode his new bike
and disappeared
a hidden thought
our love somewhere
in between
the pangs of childbirth
and his first touch
running to the window
every time we see headlights
christmas eve
we keep asking mom
when's dad coming home
new snow
two sets of footprints,
coming and going
and nothing in the mail
again today
inside the church
to get warm|
no quarters for candles
and I've forgotten
my hail marys
masked in feathers,
they chirrup in the streets
bare-breasted men
and ruby glass beads . . . falling
shards of moonlight
a small model
of the delta queen
this wooden steamboat
still smells like the day
it came from the pine
This
Tanka Series first appeared in Lynx:
SYMBIOTIC XIX:2 June, 2004
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Tanka Series
Place Where
Names Are Lost
Yuri Runov, RU
Karina Klesko, US
CindyTebo, US
the old maple wood
gives the red-carpet treatment
to me and my dog
dry leaves underfoot... they sound
like long-awaited applause
the liveliness of baby toads—
couples in the park sidestep
a sudden gust of wind
brandy and tears blend
into shades of gold
opening the jewel box
there's a pair of mom's earrings
light and sparkling
with the moon's curve
but I can't wear them
a slim silver C
the moon's way of saying 'Bye'
to desolate streets
and who needs its ghostly light
to disturb their weary sleep?
crashing waves
against the breakers
captured in a conch shell
both my past and future... the same
rushing of the sea
spinning the globe
again and again
I live in a place
where the names are lost
and the land becomes water
now seen through gray mist—
snowy peaks of memory,
their brilliance long lost
those dirty paths of autumn
never take us far from home
planting tulip bulbs
outside the prison fence
each day nearer to the bloom
I smile feeling the sun's warmth
upon my face
to define
the manifest destiny
two students square off
the last one standing
wins a chocolate bar
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Tanka Series
The Fragrance
of Sunlight
Maria Steyn, ZA
(South Africa) and Marjorie Buettner, US
spring meadow
the fragrance of sunlight
in my hands
honeybees' dance
pointing the way
two beachcombers
follow the high tide mark
this early morning
a girl drawing
outside the lines
full moon
sewn into the center
of the crazy quilt
zig-zag flight of geese
homeward bound
we pick out our graves
the sudden cessation
of color
as the music stops
her hair brushes his arm
this newness of you
when our bodies
meet
whispered secrets
while dawn seeps into night
that look again
as if you were seeing us
without you
collecting feathers
for a dreamcatcher
how moonlight
casts a silver shadow
on the web
a double rainbow
after the storm
high arc
of the arrow
before it hits
farewell letter written
with his old fountain pen
one by one
petals of the camellia
open
at the tea ceremony
soft folds of her kimono
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