Zen Fairytale

As we watched Comet
under Moon in silent Fog,
Wind carried our wish.

By the flowing stream
on a moist carpet of grass,
your tongue wets my tongue.

Flames of fire sigh
as your body under me
crushes down the sand.

Under a willow,
with cold feet in dewy grass,
weeping for our love.

Feet against the rocks
cutting skin like knives of glass,
but you hold my hand.

Up on a rooftop
under a red summer sun,
we plant cherry pits.

Floating rubber boat
heard us on the river when
we said, “I love you.”


Published in West Chester University’s Daedalus Literary Magazine, March 13, 2015