Japanese Restaurant Dream

In Poetry on March 10, 2013 at 3:22 pm

She sees starchy white sushi boats

flying pastel coloured flags

idling through Nori marshes

down pungent ginger rivers

that cleave wasabi fields verdant

under a tempura battered sky

heavy with fumes of Sake clouds

that yield fragile Raku plates

which shatter on the soy-stained earth

into smooth round Feng shui pebbles

that are strewn by the circling eddies of green tea rituals

into Kanji-shaped avenues

down which the saucy Teriyaki woman

with her languid chopstick limbs

and umami drenched lips

and her printed kimono breath

is bringing a tear-warm miso pail

into a lemongrass and bamboo scented dawn

being roused by wafting cherry blossoms

that have drummed a tattoo

upon the sliding rice-paper door

beyond which the low-table of waking

is kneeling, in barefoot hunger


Anindita Gupta, India

  1. Like Coleridge, you have entered Kubla Khan’s realm.

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