I miss the smell of rain. Quiet water whispering on the pavement instead of the tides. Clear water to drink for a thirsty soil that has forgotten how to sing. Bossa nova. I can hear the tune.

Ballroom. No sea on the back side of the moon. Steel wool. No foam with Savon de Marseille. Only the rhythmic steps of the raindrops must make the lunar surface glow.

Someone has left caramel paste after mixing dried fruits, nuts and diamond rings on the roof. Drizzle it into a glass of water. In time, melt-in-the-mouth fudge will get my song back.

…

hiromi suzuki is a poet, fiction writer, artist living in Tokyo. Her writing has appeared in 3:AM Magazine, RIC journal, Berfrois, Minor Literature[s] and various literary journals on-line.