By Ayana Harscoet '21
musty linens,
guest-room pillow sheathed
in sakura silk, living
room couch patterned
with kanji, smooth strokes
red and gold over and over
and over and dolls,
next to the tv: handmade
the way my great-grandmother
spent her last days, and blue china, of course;
bamboo-patterned miscellanea,
more sakura in the master bedroom,
the bathroom, the downstairs bathroom
with the paper fan above the sink,
and mirrors everywhere, dark
hair, almond eyes.
regardes les yeux amandes,
she says to the new neighbor
over coffee. my eyes are examined.
absent mother: no context.
outside, steady rain
breton as my blood.