In Gion, behind screen doors
the tea and sake flow between conversations,
late into the open night air, a geisha lures
melodies from her Shamisen, fingers fluid,
and still, her guests long to see more.

Gracefully as a Morning Glory, she lifts her lids,
her snowy wrist glides from her kimono
to pour, her admirers nod and watch
with eyes that peel at her binding.

Her slender, pearly face, pristine porcelain
soft creams, red lips, lowered lids,
and her hairpin of cherry blossoms
ripe for the season;
her season has arrived.

In a glowing green she is bound at the waist
parceled in layers of satin--

crisp bamboo spray across
the forest of her torso,
muddy hills plunge into waters of indigo
along the shores of her thighs,
indigo shimmers with silver crests
and cranes wading, rippling
into the metallic reflection
of a waning moon.

The evening moon kisses her grey eyes,
smoky, intoxicating,
they echo in the mind's eye
as do the misty mountains of Kyoto in her's.

She bows low, smiles faintly, and pours
all her training into bone white china,
banter and demeanor measured just as carefully
each incense stick biding her time.

A slow breeze rustles just outside,
across the orchard she flutters home
like a falling blossom, swirling past spring
bowing into the dawn of tomorrow.

10/23/2005

Author's Note: (EDITED NOW, of course) This I had to get out of me after reading that AMAZING novel...wonderful read, if you haven't read it yet. We'll see if the movie due out in Dec will do it justice. I hope I did it justice too, but as always, this is a work-in-progress. Enjoy!

Posted on 10/23/2005
Copyright © 2024 Julie Adams