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


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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