impromptu dance
mud puddles
in the pumpkin patch

 

Stardust Haiku – Issue 10 – October 2017

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flash: BLUE

Her first birthday. My husband picked out her gift, a fuzzy blue blanket. When it arrived memories of my own blue childhood blanket trickled in. We were inseparable. Everywhere I went it came trailing behind me. Even in college, I kept it hidden in the back of my closet. I couldn’t let go. As I watch my daughter curl her little fingers around her now beloved blankie, I find I long for that same sense of security. For her it’s a symbol of the love and comfort of us, her family. Something I lost long ago. I ache for that peace. That ease of consolation. The family that came with it. Maybe for my daughter it will be different. Maybe she will never know what I have known. Maybe I can offer what I was never given. Over the years, I have learned to cope on my own, grieve on my own, heal on my own. I hope one day she will look back with fond memories on this blue blanket. And that for her it will always hold a place of security, and will never have to be a little girl’s shield from an unforgiving world.

 

*this is a piece of flash memoir that was published on the blog Lost Paper

shopping
for perennials – 
new wedding rings

 

On Down The Road:
Haiku Society of America
2017 Members’ Anthology

Inside Out

sins of the flesh
her illness
becoming mine

 

speaking in tongues
my rite
of prostitution

 

visions of jesus
no one suspects
psychosis

 

bible study
we learn how not
to feel

 

closed doors
all the little lies
i told

 

heavy breathing
he tells me
it’s the lord’s will

 

discipleship
i contemplate
suicide

 

masturbation
the way he says
“God bless”

 

exorcism
my pastor waits
for payment

 

our last sermon
I let
the devil win

 

Scryptic: a magazine of dark art – Issue 1.2: September 2017

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