by Morgan Tayu-Schulz
Was there a boy?
Did he have a face?
Did he have hair?
Or was that just
His silhouette
Standing there
By a mikan tree
Still and distant
Reminding me
Of me
Was there a fence
Rail the boy sat
Perched on, his
Red baseball cap
Tugged down, face
A mask? Or was
That glance from
Fading memory
Hardening fast
Inside of me
Was there a trail?
Did I stop to gaze
Upon the small
Vale’s rich brown
Sown fields, the
Boy’s laughter
Filling the air
In wonderment
At how far we’d
Gone
Until came a road
Narrow and winding
For the boy to
Stop me and ask
Only half-afraid:
“Dada, where are we?
“Are we lost?”
I pointed to the
Tree-topped hill
“We were just there,”
I said,
Sighing to myself
In minor defeat
Naturally, the boy
Failed to grasp
The walk itself
Its arcing path
Was giving form
To the time we
Went this way
One spring day
“Beware of Snakes!”
The warning sign
Read in Japanese—
The boy found a big
Stick and poked at
The road ahead
Just to be safe
Tree roots pushing
Up the asphalt
In snake-like shapes
The road led us
To the steps of
This Shintō shrine
The boy sat under
The red gate. He
Hung his head low
Cap bill sinking
But then, tilting
His head slowly
xxxxxxx Began to rise
Morgan Tayu-Schulz completed an MFA in Fiction at Brooklyn College. After teaching for many years at Hunter College and the City University of New York, he relocated with his family to Japan, where he continues to teach and write. In 2024, he published a chapbook of poems titled Corridor City. He most recently had poems published in the Tokyo Poetry Journal.
Hawaii Pacific Review 