by Mormei Zanke
We took a funicular ride up the mountains
behind Kobe City, hoping to see infinity
stretch out before us, tell us something
we didn’t know about each other.
Could this landscape draw us out?
We asked, but the city just blinked
shades of grey and blue, I wanted to kiss
you even though I sensed the moment
was over. I did it anyway. There was
no one else at the lookout spot. You
took my picture and the wind made
a spider of my hair. Let’s stay up here,
I said. And you agreed, a little longer.
— from Juniper Volume 4, Issue 3