BROWSE Columns
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“Things Change – People Die, 1989”
oil on canvas, Stephen Hayes
After the graduations, the weddings—
the advent of grandchildren, that next generation
of half Japanese, those days of saying “orai,”
all right, she backed into the chair with a grunt.
An “usho” hissed from her mouth, a phrase
learned from her mother but never understood
until now. Laundry and floors, the endless flash
of a knife chopping, such muscles eased
by cushions against her back and buttocks,
the red stripes of upholstery, the slipcover
ruffles pulled past the apron and legs.
Over the years, her bony elbows, skin
mottled and laid on armrests until the limbs
shrank and fell, folded against her sides. The chin
collapsed into her chest—a stain, a dent, an impression
in the chair beside the picture window. She’s still there.
“Dialogue: Bothell Codex Library, 2002”
cast bronze and stone sculpture, Norie Sato
Ill-fitting rocks sit side by side
battling erosion. Crevices
with spackle mud dissolve
at the touch of rain, basalt buried
into the earth who knows how deep.
Over moss and sword fern,
the salamander’s four-toed feet
explore on and off, yes and no,
wet and dry in binary codes.
He climbs the embossed spines
of three bronze books standing
vertical, patina gone gray-green.
His tail thins in the curve of a question,
tongue flicking towards an answer.
A Monday of gray drizzle,
of overcoated businessmen
in thin ties, streaking past
the windows, growing fatter
with humidity—bumping,
colliding, puddling together
at crosswalks. When the traffic
light turns green, they slowly
gurgle down the storm drain.
Image by Alex Caza.
Sharon Hashimoto's first book of poetry, The Crane Wife (co-winner of the 2003 Nicholas Roerich Prize and published by Story Line Press), was reprinted by Red Hen Press. Her second poetry book, More American, won the 2021 Off the Grid Poetry Prize and the 2022 Washington State Book Award in Poetry. Her collection of short stories, Stealing Home, was published in 2024 by Grid Books.
