Do You Remember This, Katja?
by Richard Jarrette
Our destination hovered between Pacific mist and looming clouds conceding a
glimpse of arctic blue sky.
We half–guess navigated by sound to a sea lion haul out,
slipping by sonorous dreams and groans to the white yarrow
on the headland above. Skylarks are a delicacy in Japan, you murmured, people
pray to be invited to the feast.
I studied illuminated text in your face — fragments of my Sappho:
] listen into [ ] sweetclover [ ] my ankles.