Geisha Poem by elysabeth faslund

Sense her mince-tiny steps behind you,
silencing, soothing Day's tattering.
Passes over the shadowing bridge,
waving ripples to deep mirrors.

Within the temple, she chooses.
Sheer, flowing silks.
Delicate bright purples, reds, pinks.
Circling wraps. Kneels honor to Light.

Looses jade pins. Shakes obsidian hair
free, but for one, round,
glowing pin. Low keening sweet, soft.
She sleeps in the bower of her lover...

The Sun.