Maps/ In Zeal Poem by Rosalinda Flores Martinez

Solemn Tochigi blocks in a merry go round of maps, promised a harvest of oranges and pears in the fog-breath of morning.

Parks and libraries, amiable to a snow queen, bared the meditation of its hills and forests; a history in stone of Japanese martyrs and saints.

I breathed the Ikebana in the boulders of time.

Shrinesand holy temples peeked down the wind and in petals of sky;
Hovering birds in
soft horizon sang hymn for the gods.

I bowed to the clouds, sank on my belly, raised my hands, down on the soil in awe of transformation and deep promises.

It's not me, it's you — in the brilliance of metamorphosis, in zeal, in hope.

There you are, always, beneath my ribs. My heartache in your cup! In the twilight, it beamed

The unfamiliar silver wedding gown of a bride, a quicksilver in the shadow — let me seek the wits of Pokemon or Voltes Five in the comfortof a song — in fright of longing, in cold isolation

Did I become a prophet
because of a promise?

(song*)"Anata ni aitakute aitakute nemureru yoru wa Anata no nukumori wo sono nukumori wo omoidashi Sotto hito mitojite miru."

I remember your presence in the vast highway
your wisdom of a sage in a piece of flint
I miss you

When the rain stops, a mountain pool of a blissful marmalade awaits pleading Rainbows on fields and colors of ramen on the table scatter
Warm me with your arms —
let us kneel upon the dirt.