Wabi Sabi

Wabi Sabi

POETRY

By Neil Flatman 

For Matthew

Wearing-in mourning’s lack­lus­ter suit, I took
a walk: heather, like toffee-brittle Christmas

trees, the copper edge of curling gorse
illu­mi­nat­ing the way. You should’ve been here

 

a week ago. You said the Japan­ese had a phrase for it;
Beauty in the con­trasts of decline? I saw that

 

goth girl on her morning walk:          all pale
skin and thistle lips, and                      the sky
hauling heavy goods, each cloud      a bruise

 

racing to get any­place that isn’t here—as though
from up there the world’s just another small town

 

where time’s the dream you want to wake from.
Stay with me. Linger just a little while; careless

 

through the market stalls—the way you have
to touch the clothes and steal the fruit.

This story orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 18.

Photo by Anandu Vinod.



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