by Celine Marks
birch bark
boot polish
black river roiling.
ash moon
your face parched
by your father’s recent passing.
we’ve been here before.
yes.
the dancing.
ama no gawa, heaven’s river
in amniotic bardo we step
yesterash
flickering forth along the femur
marrow to morrow.
we’ve been here before.
yes.
the water was higher.
birch bark
peeling back
the steel-toed bridge,
digging down the river bed.
submerged, we cramp on through the night,
grappling ghostly up cases of downward spirals
as bridge after bridge passes us by.
Note: Translation from Japanese:
ama = heaven
gawa = river
ama no gawa = milky way
— from Juniper Volume 3, Issue 2