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A Quarterly Journal of Contemporary English Language Haibun
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Contents Page: March, 2010, vol 6 no 1

 

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Genie Nakano

Koi Murasaki

I remember my grandmother’s treasured kimono—deep, dark purple. I remember the smell of lavender and moth balls whenever my mother opened the tansu.

Ever so gently she lifted off the white tissue paper covering her robe. Too dark for me—red, white and yellow flowers on pink were my choices. I was 13 years old.

let the dark kimono drop
in full moon
he waits for you

 

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