Tanka
your young face my point of departure, the line I follow down almost to regret laying time on your body, motionless in sleep I'm always happy to wake you, my present late wintery day… your whining doesn’t sound like you but like a voice living inside other voices I mold you but you choose your own dream, then shatter . . . if we only knew the answer I am torn between you and your eyes. A monologue: Does one divided by nothing equal infinity? Published in Aha Anthology, 2012