MS (1993 / )

Japanese-American Farmhouse, California, 1942

Everything has been taken that anyone
thought worth taking. The stairs are tilted,
scattered with sycamore leaves curled
like ammonites in inland rock.
Wood shows through the paint on the frame
and the door is open--an empty room,
sunlight on the floor. All that is left
on the porch is the hollow cylinder
of an Albert's Quick Oats cardboard box
and a sewing machine. Its extraterrestrial
head is bowed, its scrolled neck
glistens. I was born, that day, near there,
in wartime, of ignorant people.

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Comments (3)

Memories are God given tape recorder.We can replay the bittersweet of life as we wish.The brain is priceless! ! ! ! Nice works Max.
ROLL OUT THE BARREL - and them days
Your this poem gave me a refreshing change from a plethora of broken heart poems swarming this site. Very well written with right tone, feel and content. It even recalled my memories. Thanks.(I wrote somehow similar subject in WE'LL MEET & RENDEZVOUS. If lu are interested pl. take alook.) ....10+++++