Mud City Journal

Sophia Terazawa

My mother’s hair is a muddy black, 
streaked with monsoon and tangled. 

I walk through a tunnel, trembling. 
Get this thing out of me.

My mother picks a bowl of jujube
before they turn brown and fall.

Would you let me leave you?
Would you let me try?

mudcityjournal.com/sophiaterazawa