Creator Glimpsed Serving Tea The suits having settled,
negotiations under
way, she enters to serve,
placing tea before men
held taut, as if
each cup
carries the delicate
balance of diplomacy.
Precisely, silently,
invisibly, the sacred
task undertaken but
incomplete, she withdraws
at the door, bows, a
gesture offered to the four
pinched
corners, as if to
appease the room itself.
Afterwards I try to
recall: did I steal a
glance or did the passing
glint of a key discretely
pocketed catch my eye?
or was there perhaps a
moment when some
infinite
universe was fashioned?
Took shape on a dark
table amid four blank
walls or was there simply a
shuffle of slipper and the
tidy whispered rustle of silk
gathered before she turned,
to disappear?
© DG Evans
Tokyo January 2006 |
