On the street corner, the sun destroys the love, held between glass wings, that people had carefully passed along.
The sky stands facing the window, darkening with every turn of the ventilator.
The leaves are in the sky, drawing a single line, as the rooftops lean in.
Trains crawl along the bulging street, the sailor’s collar rotating between blue creases in the sky.
This finely dressed summer procession passes by and crumbles into the flask.
The fruits of our hearts rain happy shadows.
from The Collected Poems of Chika Sagawa Find more by Chika Sagawa at the library
Copyright © 2015 Chika Sagawa
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.