Mumtain

I wasn’t born
out of nothing, of everything
in general.
My specific conception was warm,
and soft, and painful.

At the mountain where
mum was slaughtered
unceremoniously,
I stop for a second
staring at trains, holding a tear.

Lavaca mooed back at 2 poems from the "Manyoushuu" anthology (ca. 759):
number 352 by Sami Mansei and number 208, anonymous.