Tanka Journal poet

Lianne Kamp

Morning soap bubblesWash away the skin that grewOver yesterdaySilently the smell of youSlips down the drain in white clouds

Time for a pivotlike a tanka verse mid-airfind that turning placewhere we create a new shapeleave our cocoons in the wind

The lake holds its breathbetween inhale and exhalewe are in stillnessdragonflies skim the waterripples begin once again

our voyage beginswith footprints found in the mistcarried off by birdsthe only course for certainis a flight around the sun

baby born in silencemother leaves the hospitalcrushed under the weightof daffodils in her armsand sunlight on her forehead

fall trees line our pathlacy bones against the skywe stir up the pastour feet shuffling the leavesechoing through the seasons

Words sharp as hip bonesintentions tangled in limbswe were lovers thenI can still hear the echoesfeel the heat against my skin