From the collection The Immediate and No Sooner, published in 2021.
in the half-darkness
over a box of popcorn
he leers. I decide:
Ladies’ room. Break up by text.
Leave. Go home. Good thing I drove.
dressed fleecy dowdy
they exchange colorless smiles
Against tired indifference
any anecdote struggles.
scraping the paper
the short stub of a pencil
for the traditional cake
in your grandmother’s writing
5 thoughts on “Tanka 243, 244, 245”
All three really capture something in a few words. The first is creepy, and yes–good thing that person drove! The second is sad, but the third is my favorite–so poignant.
Thank you. My grandmother had scrawly handwriting and mostly wrote in pencil, and her recipe cards were done this way then spattered with ingredients over years of use.
It’s fun that you have them.
I find that final poem really touching in a bittersweet way. It is that connection between the past and present, the bridges between generations, that is so poignant and also so meaningful in a cozy way.
When I wrote this I could see my grandmother scrawling away and the pencils she used to use – they didn’t get thrown out until they were shorter than a thumb, it always seeemd to me
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