after Bashō
the vocal sac a tender bud stretched to its limit: toad call resonates
blossoms waiting to sprinkle a blue tissue sky with cherry song, as always
unfailing in their hum of endearment for you, my darling, and for me, too
my body reverberates like the toad’s taut membrane, skin an elastic of
grief now brittle after the winter, still needs to be sung. Come
this springtime, come this springtide, let the new moon pull on everything
unopening and too tightly fastened; gently open this bud, and let it flower; open my
pouch of poetry
Karin Molde, one foot in the North Sea near Hamburg, Germany, another in the Atlantic, Galway, Ireland. She has published in numerous magazines, both print and online, and in anthologies, the latest being 13 Waves. Poets from the German Stanza (2024). Her chapbook “Self-Portrait with Sheep Skull” was published with Moonstone Press, Philadelphia 2023.
More work by Karin Molde
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