The Argument
by Maryann
My words buck at such a structure
I argue, fight with myself.
I read and read the examples,
pull out pen and paper. Yet
I cannot write a villanelle.
Mere doodles end up on the page
Where words should appear and flow
I argue, fight with myself.
I feel backed into a corner.
I cannot run and hide. Yet
even with the pressure,
I cannot write a villanelle.
So I shall put my arguments
down, and hope this will suffice.
I cannot write a villanelle
And tire of arguing, fighting with myself.
This poem was published in the Hawaiʻi Review Editor's Blog as part of an e-chapbook entitled WHEA YOU FROM…WHEA YOU GOING, which was produced by the residents of TJ Mahoney & Associates, a community reentry program in Honolulu.
Maryann was born in Phoenix, Arizona--a child of the desert now transplanted in paradise. She is from years behind razor wire with few outlets of expression, save for writing. She is a resident at Ka Hale Hōala Hou No Nā Wahine, a residential facility for women making the successful transition from prison back to our communities. Her dream is to continue sharing her thoughts and stories, and to reach far and wide.
Dusk at Kauaʻi Surf
by Frances Kakugawa
A sadness falls over me
As man’s torches
Replace the sun
Beyond the red mountains.
A giant Japanese fan
Ripples out in circlets
Around a mallard
As she dips her head
Into her wings
To nibble a bug
On the quiet pond.
Quietly the fan disintegrates
To the motor boat ripples
Trailing each mallard
Across the lake to shore.
[gn_divider]Overnight Guest
by Frances Kakugawa
i am an overnight guest
in their brand new home,
both girls, instead of pulling straws
sleep with me
on a king-sized bed
with me sandwiched in the middle.
giggles, giggles, betwixt the sheets,
”go to sleep!” “stop poking me!”
bring more giggles
but even giggles soon get sleepy.
brandi is sound asleep on my right,
nicole on my left slide to the edge,
proclaiming, “I love to sleep near the edge.”
i curve one arm around nicole,
holding her in before
she falls like icarus
into total darknness.
i lay awake, thinking of life,
how some of us live near the edge
taking risks, pursuing dreams, living
outside of little white boxes,
often teetering on one foot.
only in childhood do we know,
someone’s arm is always there,
holding us in from over the edge.
and this is how it ought to be
when we are young and trusting
in our parents’ home.
A local author and poet, Frances H. Kakugawa’s works include Kapoho, Mosaic Moon, and Wordsworth Dances the Waltz. She received a Ka Palapala Poʻokela Award for her keiki book Wordsworth the Poet.
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