Katie Martin
Eastern Sun

The east sings of little red suns that beat
                in chimed rhythm
against the Yellow River in the
                quiet melodies
of yesterday mornings long ago
                kissed by the
grey past.
Kissed by the grey past
Of magenta kimonos swimming in the wind
the silent murmurs of Confucius
                permeating the reddened ears
Oh, the red, the red of that little red book
and those silent murmurs
living under the skin of those
little red suns.

<< Back to Issue 6, 2004