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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 7, Number 4, December 2013

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Sonam Chhoki
Thimpha, Thimpha, Bhutan


The Lure of the Threshold

The hound is out tonight. It lowers its head and drools in wait for a passer-by.

Threading through the bamboo the summer moon stipples its taut back, silvers the hackles of hair and pools its watching eyes. Across the field a car door clanks, bangs, an empty bottle skittles on the stones.

Footsteps cross the road to the edge of the grove.

The hound sniffs a whiff of tobacco smoke. It paws the ground, whips its tail to and fro.

A red hat and mouth tinged blue in the wan light steps out of the shadows, holds out a bejeweled hand.

Together they climb into the moon.

passing breeze—
white buddleia blooms
spread butterfly wings

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