Asano Kogen

"One cut at the strings,/& all the puppets fall, clattering."



Night. Asano Kogen
kneels

in darkness.

Or
almost darkness,

in the light

of a thin

wavering oil-lamp,
the wick

sputtering,

her shadow
huge --

immovable.

She keeps her eyes
down

lips together,
softly

the black hair --
shiny as if oiled --
hanging

over her ears.

Delicate,
wounded,
imperturbable.

Pure gold,
solid iron.

So thinks
the Old Man.

He sits watching her,
legs crossed.

He's ancient,
cold as a lizard,
his white hair

thin as frost
on Kyoto's rooftops.

Nobody knows how it is
to be old --

to suffer, to grow ill,
to creak when you move --

to die choking
deranged,

shouting at illusions,
dry eyed

and empty as a reed.

Who tells us
anything?

Lost,
we're lost.

Asano sinks deeper
into silence --

a great well,
a darkness
swallowing up

the mountain, the temple,
the Old Man

and Asano Kogen,
the beautiful

tear-stung
lonely,
empty,

one-armed bushi.

You played
the biwa

at one time,

did you not?

Asks the Old Man.

Asano
nods

or rather
she tilts her head

forward
so gently

it is a feeling
more than a nod.

Hai,
she says.

This man,
this swordsman you say
cut off your arm --

who was he?

Asano Kogen
bows,

touching her fingertips
to the soap-glossy

dark planks
of the floor.

She says it,
so softly

it might have been
the rain

or the wind
or the reeds.

Or pine needles
shaking

as the full moon
glides

from behind
rushing clouds

borne by night winds
to the land

of demons,
or lotus ghosts --

who knows?

The name.

She hears it --
the softness of her lips
saying it.

Then
she straightens

and goes
silent.

The wick
sputters.

The Old Man
shuts his ancient

lizard-like,
flame gleaming

eyes.



This man,
this evil demon

you seek,

is the Shogun's younger
brother,

and has been trained
since childhood

by Yagyu sword masters --
until he became

a master himself,
presented with a holy certificate

and protected by
the entire insane clan

of Shogunate ninja.

He is evil.
He does harm.
He exults

in killing.
But he is

shockingly,
undeniably,

skilled. He has
no second

to his Muga no Taichi.

Make no mistake.
If you pursue this man,

he will cut you
down
and he will take

your beautiful head.
Who knows

what unholy perversions
it will be subjected to

after?

So says
the Old Man,

as Asano Kogen's eyelids
tremble.

But her shadow
does not

move.