with his ivory foot resting
on a polished rock
the great wave off Kanagawa
breaks over his toes
one knee bent
a look of serene intention
greets us
his cormorant
with roped neck
and fish filled bill
sits in the crook of his arm
wings etched in black
he cannot swallow
his master’s livelihood
not now, not yet
not the big ones
but where is his boat?
his lantern, glass river?
Nishiki, Mikuma
Takatsu, Nagara
he stands
gracefully bent forward
right hand clasping the rope
that leashes the bird
to his will
a playful smile
accentuates his cheeks
we can almost see
his beard twitch
the wave crash
the night closing in
the burning lantern
there to attract fish
cast rippling reflections
as it dives beneath
and all within
the mock Tudor walls
of this suburban bungalow
the cormorant fisherman
has found a home
and stands alone
a lost tourist amongst
the royal wedding tea set
and Sylvac shire horses
in a mahogany alcove
Nan’s nik-nak shrine
where us children looked
but never touched
his imagined past
(Antique Japanese carved ivory
okimono cormorant fisherman
circa 1900)
