Tanka

 

 

John Daleiden   Tanka   is it possible tomorrow, our son will wed? am I dreaming? yesterday we discussed if we should have children     with joy I leap out of the frying pan into your life consume me with raging flames until our ashes are one     emptiness reigns, only my footsteps echo-- this mausoleum, the niche where your ashes lie contains my empty urn     butterfly— you have resisted my touch, rejected me, nevertheless—admit it you were more than excited!