the present day circe: winteredgingonspring
By; ShinigamiForever

He is full of the dustiness of rain.
I have quite forgotten
his name

Something wooden lacquered
that has to do with
tea ceremonies.
And there is porcelain
behind the teeth?

Or I could be thinking of
his fingers. When he
emerges from the
hidden crevices of the floor,
he is
stained with sweat
and holy sacrosanct things
being alive.

He is
profound. I cannot think
of a reason. When I have some time, later,
I'll dig up this memory of
bitter leaves
and wonder why he is

everything is still
just like the morning
after spring drowned. I have
forgotten his name.

I think I gave it to the
but like
the absence of a name
and crime.

you can think of a reason for me.