FALL/ WINTER 2009

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Annabelle Moseley
FRAGRANT, FOREIGN

As the light folds,
Japanese calligraphy
inked in red and black
on fortune-sized paper
the color of blush—
traces its thinness
against my pale hands.
I am an April geisha
holding a plum blossom
fragrant with foreign vowels.

The sumi-e leaves its mark
like paint on a paper lantern.
As the light falls, read
each of my fingers as a scroll
curled like pagoda roofs,
lined like thick bamboo,
trails of sunset sticking to my skin—
scents of haiku clinging in my hair—
As the light fades,
the word-ghosts linger.

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