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haibun: death, life, life, life, life

death, life, life, life, life

crisp corpses of flies litter the floor of the conservatory, the low window-sills, the table-tennis table, little clich├ęs of death – on their backs with their legs in the air – wings still fanned as if the end came so quickly there was no time or space to measure between flight and fall, the buoyancy of air 

and ground

clover and buttercups bunch across the lawn, new growth on the espaliered cherry trees reaches to a leaf’s length of their neighbours; one of us says, my hair grows so quickly 

in this heat

our daughter complains about her daughter – the scorn in her voice, her tossed head, the moods, the egocentric bounty of an eighteen year old who knows, of course, all there is to know, we know, 

we know

solanum dulcamara between the apple trees – bittersweet, fellenwort, snakeberry, violet bloom, bitter, blue or woody nightshade – easy to mistake for the deadly kind, atropa belladonna, hallucinator, the potion of witches, instrument of seduction, or destruction, the poisoned tips of arrows

red sunset
in the cat's mouth
the vole
fakes its death


Modern Haiku 46.1 Winter/Spring 2015

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