I made one

thousand for

you whose T
cells were done

for, dashed———or

so we, pea
pod, thought. Bun

of milk wore

my mouth, tea
of green. Un

-dyed squares bore

up, souled. The  
autumns spun,

the seashore

shared blue sea
stars, the sun

-dial tore

up its ski 
-nose. You, hon,

kept one oar

———two———in free 
water. Fun

nurses swore

Luv ya, Swee’

Pea! but none

loved to draw

blood. High-key
legs———a ton

———reached through your

last pane, knee 
bones undone

———steel streaked. Four

stars locked. Pea
-cocks furled. Kan

-reki ’s core

scorned esprit, 
but in run

light your sure

cherry tree 
booms. As one,

birds upsoar

———red-crowned key.




Note: ‘In Japan, the 60th year of life is called kanreki and is celebrated as a rebirth or a re-entry into childhood’, from Jessa Gardner’s ‘“Kanreki” — A Red Letter 60th Anniversary for the Garden’, seattlejapanesegarden.org, May 26, 2020