Rachel Dacus
AT THE THOUSAND CRANES AUTO REPAIR
The women were making the men wait
in the room provided. Folding a square piece
of gold, the Japanese woman looked up from behind
her sunglasses and said: A thousand paper cranes.
For a party. For luck. The men's eyes fuzzed
and snapped: NO TALKING to strangers
during auto repair. A woman with a fan of years
on her forehead moved across the silence, hissing
space to sit beside the folder, pleating the room.
together. Another question launched the tale
of the last thousand cranes: made at the bedside
of a dying grandmother. (Hers? Mine?
This woman might appear someday at your bed --
for luck, she would say) Everyone was listening
openly now. Their necks leaned in parallel.
Feet dropping down, they flew on story currents
and watched being after being take shape and rise
from luck-bending, blind invention's
darting, dark skinned fingers.
Date of Birth: 5/11/49 Location: Walnut Creek, California Email: rachel@dacushome.com Publications: The Alsop Review, Atlanta Review, The Bitter Oleander, Cedar Hill Review, Coracle, Melic Review Poet Lore, Spillway, The Poetry of Roses and Ravishing DisUnities: Real Ghazals in English Book: Earth Lessons (Bellowing Ark Press; 1998)
