Kitsune and Tea

She faery dances into the tea room, in a spring kimono made of whimsical words, winks from an onion boy, and cackles brewing out of a girl-child. There is laughter in her obi—loving mirth that wears glasses and knows to tease her middle until she squeals night songs into midday heat.

Pour your tea properly, the world says, as we tell you. She wavers, for a second made of feathers… before sticking her head into her chest and seeing that Yatagarasu’s compass still points towards the madness of her choosing. I will pour my tea with my third tail, she tells them.

She flies out of the tea room on the back of her winged heart. In her kimono, the boy blooms a pride bouquet, the girl wishes to be just like her Kitsune, and the geeky obi falls in love anew.

a chic three-legged crow
bursts out of the heart of spring
to guide her to tea

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a wee note and stuff: Today is Rommy’s birthday. Rommy loves Japanese culture, a haibun feels appropriate. I’m linking this poem to Poetizing Japanese Folklore – Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, 2016 (Day 12)… and The Way of Tea, hosted by the birthday girl, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. I brewed inspiration from this quote: “The questions of how to begin and what to think are matters for one’s own heart to resolve. Of oneself, for oneself—you must be your own teacher.” ~ Sen No Rikyu

Kitsune – Japanese word for fox. Stories depict them as intelligent beings and as possessing magical abilities that increase with their age and wisdom (so yeah, Rommy, just like wine).

Yatagarusa – three-legged crow (a guide) found in various mythologies and arts of East Asia.

Obi – a sash for traditional Japanese dress… part of kimono outfits.

Three-Legged Crow
“A Three-Legged Dapper Crow”
via

Blood, Screams and Wild Woods

A mother? No.
I haven’t had one
of those in years.

I birthed myself real
out of the belly of a beast
who dined on loved flesh
and snacked on lies.

Of course, I remember
the day. I was born of blood,
screams and wild woods.
I was eleven and a moon
and wholly crimsoned.

There used to be a mother,
once upon a time. It’s true.
But she was eaten, bit by bit,
by ravenous plot monsters
that haunt ever afters.

Yes, my grandmother still lives
in me, written inside my skull,
bewaring me of lies and wolves.

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written for Beyond the Ever After – Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, 2016 (Day 11)
and
linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

Red, by C. Madison-Peters“Red”, by C. Madison-Peters
(find more of her yummy work on her website and on Instagram)