by Angela Nishimoto
Using the de-thorner to flake off the extraneous, plucking damaged, unsightly petals one by one. Thorns, leaves, stems, petals scattered around my feet. At this time and place, roses needed to be in bud to sell. If they were bloomed out, they were trashed; like other produce, they had a short shelf life. Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Angela Nishimoto
For AJM
Blue butterfly with black, brown
And green marks. Carried by the breeze and
Her own limp exertions, she beats
Her wings dizzy without sugar-fuel for
Two days. Blown from continental beach
Out to the Pacific Ocean, she opens her wings, closes.
Swooped upon by the god-wind, she cannot resist.
She is lepidopteran, an animal, so she must eat. Continue reading
By Angela Nishimoto
Chiyo, standing under the large banyan tree, flung her hands about her face, trying to keep the mosquitoes from alighting. Henry stood at a distance and gazed off down the unpaved road. He became aware of his wife’s irritation, so he turned and made his way back to her. She looked up at the threat of rain. Whether passing mauka showers or downpour, rain was always possible here on the windward side of O`ahu. He reached her just as she swatted a whining little beast, leaving a sooty smudge of mosquito remains centered on her forehead.
Filed under Fiction
Hawaii Pacific Review 