bus stop twilight …
I inhale every puff
of a stranger’s cigarette,
the favorite brand
of my deceased father
Published by
Chen-ou Liu
Chen-ou Liu lives in Ajax, Ontario, Canada. He is the author of five books, including Following the Moon to the Maple Land (First Prize, 2011 Haiku Pix Chapbook Contest) and A Life in Transition and Translation (Honorable Mention, 2014 Turtle Light Press Biennial Haiku Chapbook Competition), His tanka and haiku have been honored with many awards.
View all posts by Chen-ou Liu
4 thoughts on “”
The last two lines take an unexpected turn! I can just imagine the poet being transported back in time by the familiar smell of the cigarette smoke.
Chen-Ou, you are writing your memory. I somehow understand the pain in the memory and how an inhalation is like a big gulp of something you want to hug into the self , how a stranger can connect to close family by just a small unconscious act. How the twilight has already arrived by the time the bus has come to a stop
The last two lines take an unexpected turn! I can just imagine the poet being transported back in time by the familiar smell of the cigarette smoke.
What a touching tanka. This one will linger for a long time. Thank you.
Chen-Ou, you are writing your memory. I somehow understand the pain in the memory and how an inhalation is like a big gulp of something you want to hug into the self , how a stranger can connect to close family by just a small unconscious act. How the twilight has already arrived by the time the bus has come to a stop