Poem-A-Day: Memories of Japan

Memories of Japan

Honey pours slow like New Orleans

Drips on my leg- a brown memory

of tongue in skin and poetry--

The calligrapher bends over my feet

inscribing the first book of you.

You could fall in love with me

of the painted hands and

back like a broad scroll.

I rise through symphonies of lightning to meet you.

I surface near your sun--

Too like Icarus, I fall.

Brown feathers dot the sky,

Punctuation for unwritten sentences.