Raspberries

 

On our bed
we lie like flatfish.

Outside, stars grow old.

A white cocoon
casts its image on the river.

In sparse shadows
a willow dangles.

Along the thorn fences
raspberries bleed.

They remember
once being the fire
drawing the moth
flapping its wings
to flames.

Previously published in Cha: An Asian Literary Journal.

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Anna Yin is an IT Geek and a poet. her poetry bloomed after immigrating to Canada. She won the 2005 Ted Plantos Memorial Award and 2010 MARTY Award. Her book Wings Toward Sunlight was published by Mosaic Press in 2011.

Object(s) to bring back to life: “Passenger pigeons.”

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