It’s been a gibbous age since

truth wind blew away the roof and all my

goods, save for a splintered shell of a house.

Today I built a bonfire in the yard and burned

your poems first thing. Next I pulled down

walls and ripped up floorboards ’til I

scraped bedrock with bloody fingers. Now

I start again, this time compelled by my own

heart-hewn blueprint. Each wall will be a

far horizon. Stars serve dreamers better

than shakes or shingles. With a view

like that, a scope like that, there’s no need of

windows, and I won’t close doors again. The

native rhythm of my breath falling and rising

is gravid with promise enough to pull the moon.

Let Me Build Myself Instead

after Masahide, trans. Beilenson and Behn

Deborah-Zenha Adams is an award-winning author of novels, short fiction, CNF, and poetry. Her work has appeared in Adelaide Literary Magazine, The Orchards Poetry Journal, One, Sheila-na-gig, and other journals. You’re invited to visit her website to read more of her work.