Remembering Amy Uyematsu by Marsha de la O
I don’t know why I crawled under my potted bougainvillea, branches swooping wildly sideways, the trunk powerful enough to have split the pot long ago. Its days are numbered. Yet the life-force continues. Here among the under-branches, a branch remains with a few faded blossoms of stunning color, a kind of light-shot cerise. The tissue has grown so thin that these older blossoms glow like fuchsia windowpanes. It’s breathtaking, and almost registers as a wound. I’m thinking about Amy Uyematsu. Amy was a beloved friend. Years back, when cancer came to her, she wrote numbered ‘zap’ poems. Of course, she’ll survive, I thought, tallying soRead More →