A wall of bamboo forest
                where the trail head was

                still leads to a cluster of stone
                tombs the size of dog houses

                next to cherry name markers
                sunk long before the big war
                and, so bright light

                does not startle the dead, in
                near-perfect shade.

                The names are faded, wood

                rotted, green bamboo
                rising up

                in different angles
                through the floors, lifting
                ash and bone flakes.

                Nobody to hack bamboo, to
                paint fresh kanji.
                No children asking

                why am I alive?

                

Copyright © Kevin Dobbs, 2006. All Rights Reserved.