Reading Rumi, there you are
beside my mother’s bed.
A whiff of father’s smoke–
orange passes overhead.
Inside the bureau drawer
laughter, a handkerchief
of tears feels wintry.
Moon night an invisible
eye transfigures.
Reading Rumi, there you are
beside my mother’s bed.
A whiff of father’s smoke–
orange passes overhead.
Inside the bureau drawer
laughter, a handkerchief
of tears feels wintry.
Moon night an invisible
eye transfigures.
