In a bamboo garden in Kyoto,‭ ‬fox-boy slips through the canes,‭ ‬tail muddy.‭ ‬I follow him to his hole.‭ ‬He asks about Li.‭ ‬I tell him she is married now.‭ ‬The hole swallows him‭; ‬I listen but hear nothing.‭ ‬Our next meeting,‭ ‬I say she is old and smells like whale tongue.‭ ‬His yellow teeth click,‭ ‬and he disappears.‭ ‬The last time,‭ ‬I come down the stone path to give the news that she is dead,‭ ‬but I can’t find him.‭ ‬Shadows glide through the bamboo.‭ ‬One yip.‭ ‬An answer.‭ ‬The moon rises slowly,‭ ‬carrying the burden of my sorrow.