Tanka
this cedar
if only I could carve
"my dearest mother"
whose urn
I do not get to touch
snowflakes
dropping on the spot
where she rests—
her paw that touched me
as soft as a cotton ball
birdsong
and dogs’ barks
a residential symphony . . .
closing my eyes
actors playing
Cantonese Opera
two
butterflies
frolicking in the rose bush
while I
pick up the weeds
he’s plugged from the earth
cold night
I open the door . . .
an old man
with a toddler in his arm
for trick or treat
Lunar New
Year’s Day
I think of my home in Cholon
no longer there . . .
only some photos I brought here,
they too are fading
(Note: Cholon was part of Saigon.)
Vietnam
Wall
I stroll up and down
the panels . . .
each visitor’s face
an emotion of their own
empty feeder
birds hopping on the deck—
I imagine
children crying for food
all over the world
scent of jasmine
thick in the air . . .
when will I
smell fresh durians again
in my hometown
a
neighbor
eyes our tools . . .
summer at its height
he and his wife
cruising the Rhine River
About
Nu Quang, US
Chinese
Vietnamese, she grew up during the war and lived under the
Communist rule for ten years after Saigon fell. Now a
naturalized US citizen, she writes from her background
consisting of three cultures. Her haiku, haibun, and tanka
have been and will be published in the issues of Notes
from the Gean, A Hundred Gourds, The Heron’s Nest, Haiku
News, Mainichi Daily News, Multiverses, Moonbathing, Red
Lights, Lynx, Atlas Poetica, Ribbons, Lyrical Passion Poetry
Ezine.
This is Nu
Quang’s first appearance in Sketchbook.
