written by: Genie Nakano
Indigo sky above with a sliver of a crescent moon—-
Aimi can move freely—almost invisible--away from the glaring
daylight where she hears the village wenches
whisper--mosquitoes in her ear. They covet her silk
kimonos and the bounty of combs in her raven hair.
She is Aimi the royal courtesan and yet. . .
Aimi can't wait for her hair to fade, her breasts to drop and
her lips to wrinkle like a dried plum.
She dreams of the days and nights when she stays in her
room and writes, tanka, haiku and prose. She sees and tastes
too much of the world. . .and knows too many secrets.
a silver moth
wings in the night
window and screen