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A Poem about a Broken Bucket
after the painting by Yoshitosi Taiso
by Janet Krauss
Is it true that the full moon
is more beautiful mirrored
in water? It appears
disembodied, a blank face,
threatening to dissolve
within its element
though it seems enthralled,
caught in its illusion,
floating as if summoned
from an unknown depth,
a mute oracle,
undulating omens.
But now the moon
lies flapping on the ground
like a silent, gasping fish,
the water barely skimming
the dirt, the bucket broken,
having slipped
from the poet’s hands
that hang inert, ineffectual,
one palm up, one down,
emptiness between,
the damp rag of despair
on her face.
Look up at the moon
looking down at you:
A branch of a persimmon
tree graces its steady gaze.
The poem can be
the simple act of seeing
the wondrous thing.
Published in South Carolina Review
and in her book Borrowed Scenery (Yuganta Press).