Sorrow Gondola

Like being a child and an enormous insult

is pulled over your head like a sack;

through the sack’s stitches you catch a glimpse of the sun

and hear the cherry trees humming.

But this doesn’t help, the great affront

covers your head and torso and knees

and though you move sporadically

you can’t take pleasure in the spring.

Yes, shimmering wool hat, pull it down over the face

and stare through the weave.

On the bay, water-rings teem soundlessly.

Green leaves are darkening the land.