We had a choice this time of writing an elegy, a ballad, a pastoral, or what I picked, an ode.
Umeboshi
Just thinking of them
Hurts my cheeks—
Break the stems
At ripeness' peak
Add shiso leaves,
salt and sun
Dry them, flip them
one by one
Umeboshi,
pickled plum
Purply-red with
white rice, yum!
Eat it whole, spit
out the pit
Baba's umeboshi
wins,
the sour puckers up
the chin
Ninety years is time
enough, and salt
enough—
to modify the taste,
refine
what's now
perfection's stuff
This year's is the
final batch
The tenth in total
called “the last”
"Umeboshi" is actually the second ode I wrote and polished. The first one was a sad ode called "The Plait," and it was about a braid of hair and two best friends. I thought it was good. But I just wrote it to see if I could and then realized it wasn't me. It was like me acting like someone else and writing what they would write. So I put it away. Has that ever happened to you?
How glorious your umeboshi ode! Did you help Baba make them one time? Is that how you know so well how to? You should let her know you immortalized her umeboshi in writing!
ReplyDeleteIs it bad that the braid ode didn't sound like it was from you? Don't you think it could be a useful exercise to do sometimes? Although I understand. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to paint like I'm someone else, and then I just get confused and produce a work that's not very good.
I wasn't sure if I should tell Baba or not or she might even more feel like she has to do muri and make them again. Actually, I don't know if the steps are completely accurate or not. I kind of made it up, but it sounds right, doesn't it?
DeleteMaybe that is a good exercise. Then I don't feel so wasting about it.