October 7, 2011

5 Tanka by Joan L. Cannon

scent of jonquils
laughable mockingbird
and breeze like a sigh
for a moment I forget
your ear is out of reach

mansards, gilded equestrienne
a grey light over the Seine
we couldn’t forego
the glee of unsophisticated
travelers too far from home

languid in a sailboat
under Pacific sun
with evening still ahead
I could savor your wrist
and the wind in your hair

I feel still a touch
of breast belly thigh
and lie waiting to sleep
beside you once more
blood warm forever

myriad honeyed scenes
shiver in my darkening
memory and make me start
--to dive in search of more
before they sink too deep

1 comment: