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.