From an Onsen

The spring water won’t

tell what I’ve spoken under

this clear Hokkaido

sky. I’m babbling and just like

the streams in Yorkshire,

I’m running my full finger-

tips over the stones:

coarse, callous and curious

to my touch. The re-

collection of you is much

the same. It trickles

away as water in the

bath. Going – going –

Gone. The gargling echoes in

a naked way that

sticks in my head like nato

on a bowl of rice.

I’m not sure why the water

swirls more than your face

in my mind’s eye, but I’m glad.

 

(Hokkaido, Japan – 17 August 2013)

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