CHRISTOPHER BURAWA

Condolence for the Blind Mori

You will fall
into a place without bathrooms
or salt. It is the Mind without limits,
resting. What moments before had been
the active bubble of the autumn tea room
collapses into our shared home. Your childhood

drum is here, the one-eyed cat is here, your
grandmother’s favorite stone is here.
And Ikkyu waits, but not
as you remember him. The embrace
is the same, so complete there is no need
to speak. But for you he did, as you both
separated, whispering in your ear

Whose eyes do not open?