Kyoto
Crimson lanterns
lit the cloudy skies.
Some women wore
kimonos. Men tucked
strands of hair
behind their maidens’ ears.
A star’s twinkle,
a careful gesture.
Everyone makes a wish.
My shooting star was purple.
Alone,
I had no wish,
everything I desired
was within reach.
At this summer festival
I came to help
my son sell
homemade sake.
He steamed the rice for one
and a half hours in the kitchen.
I slide down the hill,
the silk laces
of my kimono
tearing after each twig.
I could feel a cool mist
silenced by a growing moon.
I walk to the back of the festival,
to a lonely
stone well.
I pull the rope of the well
down, panting for
the red lit water.
Blinded by
the dazzling hairpins
of daughters
under the full moon,
the glass flowers
blessed
by its light.
The moon
like a chestnut
waiting for a squirrel
to crack it, brown
dust of prosperity
showering over
every couple.
The sweet and sour
scent of fried fish,
stabbed
with wooden picks.
Takoyaki
flipped over a pan,
fried milk,
rich and creamy insides,
a golden coating—
the kind that makes
my throat itch.
Konpeitō wrappers
and fresh caramels
littering the ground,
melting from the heat
of bodies pressed
against each other.
The moon
peeling itself
with the relief
her children are safe.
lit the cloudy skies.
Some women wore
kimonos. Men tucked
strands of hair
behind their maidens’ ears.
A star’s twinkle,
a careful gesture.
Everyone makes a wish.
My shooting star was purple.
Alone,
I had no wish,
everything I desired
was within reach.
At this summer festival
I came to help
my son sell
homemade sake.
He steamed the rice for one
and a half hours in the kitchen.
I slide down the hill,
the silk laces
of my kimono
tearing after each twig.
I could feel a cool mist
silenced by a growing moon.
I walk to the back of the festival,
to a lonely
stone well.
I pull the rope of the well
down, panting for
the red lit water.
Blinded by
the dazzling hairpins
of daughters
under the full moon,
the glass flowers
blessed
by its light.
The moon
like a chestnut
waiting for a squirrel
to crack it, brown
dust of prosperity
showering over
every couple.
The sweet and sour
scent of fried fish,
stabbed
with wooden picks.
Takoyaki
flipped over a pan,
fried milk,
rich and creamy insides,
a golden coating—
the kind that makes
my throat itch.
Konpeitō wrappers
and fresh caramels
littering the ground,
melting from the heat
of bodies pressed
against each other.
The moon
peeling itself
with the relief
her children are safe.
Sabrina Guo is from New York. She is the youngest global winner of the 2021 Poems to Solve the Climate Crisis Challenge, with a performance in the UN Climate Change Conference, UK 2021. She is the recipient of the Civic Expression Award and a nine-time National Medalist from the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. Her writing has been featured in the Best Teen Writing, Counterclock, The Poetry Society of UK, and Polyphony Lit, among others. She is the founder of Long Island Laboring Against COVID-19 and Girl Pride International, organizations featured by Disney for its 2021 “Use Your Voice” social initiative.
Art: For Anthony Bourdain, oil on canvas, Rebecca Pyle