Under the Waves off Kanagawa
– after Hokusai
The people are insignificant,
clutched in the grasping hand of water,
crests curled like claws.
Their clothes are the color of depth,
indistinguishable from the midnight ocean.
The boats, pale and creased,
are lost in the water's wanton palm.
Sea spray settles like first snow.
Folding its fingers into a fist,
the wave rises.
Even Fuji cannot cast shadows
the way the water does.
–mary alexandra agner