Awaiting Pets (and Other Haikus)

Through the Window

They will never know

that I saw them together

sitting on the grass.

 

Behind Schedule

Even now the clock

seems to be drifting faster

than I can keep up—

 

Night Terrors

Their shifting outlines

stand, staring in the window,

just beyond the light.

 

Editing

Pressing a pencil

against a piece of paper

changes don’t to do.

 

Awaiting Pets

He came to my leg,

leaning just beneath my hand,

and looked in my eyes.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Aile Goes Walking

With the thin mist clawing at his feet like tendrils, and the morning dew sliding beneath his toes like wet cubes of ice, Aile could not have been happier. His steps were light and full of air, and he felt they were like wings, flying him to his distant destination.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – The Wall of Faces

Sometimes I stare at my wall of faces; all the masks I have put on—happy, angry, sad; animalish. I’ll try to contort my face to match them, but it’s hard to compete with a mask. When I look in their eyes long enough, they’ll start to speak to me.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – The Corpse

The sour smell of the corpse rose through the air. It smelled of feces and dirt, though the snow gave it the bite of icy wind. The blood had faded into a deep brown with time, and when he finally wrenched the body free, it seemed to whisper, “come back…”

——

 

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LOVE POEM #84 – A Short One

A short one today

 

A stroll through the sultry park air

A bite at the bistro down the way

A touch of time in the April rain

A look through the library books

A frolic through the fountain springs

 

Perhaps, even, a romp in the rafters

a few minutes before the run to work;

A short one, but not so short

that it will be forgotten.

——

 

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THIRST

The thick pool of blood soaked through his pant legs as he knelt. A ravenous thirst had overtaken him, as it did everyone eventually. He scooped palmfuls to his face, lapping at it as it trickled down his wrist like a dog. In death, he had never felt so alive.

——

 

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DRESSING UP

The formalist would put you in a suit.

He would knot the tie so tight

around your tiny little neck,

that you would strangle to death.

 

The romantic would demand that you disrobed,

down to your silken stockings,

so that he could describe you walking

in all your splendor through the dusk air.

 

And then there is the Victorian,

who would worry more how Fra Pandolf’s hands

worked at the canvas of your throat

than how his ink depicted your dress.

 

Only chance would place him side by side

with Prufrock though, who would sooner put you

in a gas mask than a marriage gown,

so that they could ponder the sea together.

 

Yet who am I but another suitor

come to parade you across the palace floor—

for a minute. Another to curl the strands of your hair

over your ears and whisper sweet nothings to you.

——

 

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KNOWING THE BUTTERFLY

Was it better to know the butterfly

as he flew about the vegetable garden,

or to have simply seen him as a passerby

enjoying his stay in the sunshine?

 

Perhaps if I’d known him, he’d have stopped

and helped me along with my planting,

or told me a story about sunflowers

and how they made a magnificent landing;

 

but having never met, he stopped all the same

and waited hesitantly at the head of the gate,

fluttering his wings, faintly ready to fly away,

and that distant beauty wasn’t lost in friendly banter.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #75 – LAST RITES

I didn’t think one stanza would be enough

to tell you how much I loved you,

but now that you’ve scratched out my other lines

there isn’t any room on the page to say more.

——

 

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STRIKEOUT

Like an umpire shooting bullet holes

through a neighborly batter’s defenses,

you should strike through the draft of your paper

with the black ink of objectivity.

 

Or else you’ll be an executioner.

The ink will become your vicious black hood

and the pen will be your dripping red axe

swinging at the necks of innocent words.

 

Or worse yet, you will be back in high school,

stuttering sentences in a mirror

as you prepare to ask Suzy to prom,

just to doubt you had a shot to start with.

——

 

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