Poetry

Taste of death, while
talking of stealthy footsteps
of bloodied religion.

Like a hedgehog you
curl up, stay quiet to let pass the god.
Not answering was your answer.

That was not a good
analogy if I kiss your hand
to ask a reed dance.

Part of you, walks in step
together― under the moon,
yet you cannot embrace your shadow.

It was full moon night. After
a long time I went out
to meet him. He was wearing a red cap.