I'd been to Japan once.
And my husband has been a number of times
and brings back stories and pictures.
And this poem is about the Moss Palace.
It's really the Moss Temple there.
And I just call it "The Moss Palace."
"At Kokedera you saw as many kinds of moss
as there are names for snow among the Eskimos,
and the moss lay in deep banks like snow.
You tell me of soft jade between the stones, of fur on the north
side of trees, of wild pincushions
at the edge of a stream, as smooth as the pads
of an animal's paw when it rests its tamed head upon your lap.
Moss serves no purpose the gardener says,
neglect your lawn and moss will overtake it.
I want to be overtaken by moss, to walk in my bare feet
on twenty different kinds, to move from the hardness of rock
to sudden velvet and sink the way I
sink in the green of your eyes when you speak
of going with me to Japan, when the place where my body stops
and yours begins is moss."