Washi… whisper… violet sleeve… hush.

Ink flows right-to-left—kana, breathe and rush.

Moon threads through bamboo blinds so slow,

Court lamps blink where the rumors go.

Violet sleeves hide a thunder-bright pen,

I braid a chapter into drifting kō* again. (*incense)

Five… seven… five—then seven, seven,

Fan ribs count the syllables to heaven;

Step off-beat, tilt the paper sky,

Fold one night into an alibi.

Call me Mura—saki—glitch in the palace,

Kana lightning, silk-turn malice.

Page goes shhh —beat so lavish,

Genji moves like rumor I brandish.

Paint the midnight, write it in light,

Perfumed margins blossom on sight;

Every line a courtly device—

I rewrite fate with a violet splice.

Koto sparks on an 808 floor,

Sho drones bloom like a sliding door.

Names like fragrances—Mist and Plum,

Yamato-e dreams on a taiko drum.

Five beats loop where the moon is thin,

Tanka math—let the fracture begin;

Sleeves like waves when the cadence bends,

Drop to four—where the chorus ascends.

Call me Mura—saki—glitch in the palace,

Kana lightning, silk-turn malice.

Page goes shhh —beat so lavish,

Genji moves like rumor I brandish.

Paint the midnight, write it in light,

Perfumed margins blossom on sight;

Every line a courtly device—

I rewrite fate with a violet splice.