Thursday

again this year
the wind-sown poppies
flower between stones


The Haiku Calendar 2010 (Snapshot Press, 2009)

I Dream of Speaking Italian

so obvious things were falling apart when I had to walk up the street with a plateful of red pesto dressing to find out what had happened to my salad, though my haute couture dress — an off the shoulder taffeta Gina Lollobrigida little number in wine and black — was particularly appropriate for the restaurant, the army of Italian men appearing / disappearing through doors, but I couldn’t find the one in the silver suit who’d approved of my choice of sun-blush tomatoes, roasted aubergines, peppered salami, and had to speak to a woman with black eyebrows who was busy stacking up billowing leaves of oversized lettuce — radicchio, sweetheart, frisée — so I decided on a sandwich instead, buffalo mozzarella and black olives on ciabatta, and no, not toasted, or open, just give me the bloody sandwich will you, banging my fists on the glass counter, attracting the attention of a ginger-headed freckled Italian in pinstripes who smiled too much when he apologised, glanced down at my shoes. It was then I knew I should have listened to you, gone for the cheese and tomato on white, a bag of crisps, half a lager and lime, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of those slippery slices and curls and it’s not that I want to be different, look, we both have those little knots in the tendons at the back of our heels, and even though you say you wouldn’t, I know you’d love those studs of green peppercorn firing your tongue, oh yes dancing over the roof of our mouths

like firecrackers
the dreams we have
the dreams we never had


Modern Haiku, Autumn 2009

Monday

the sound of the sea
speaking to my mother
on her birthday


Joint 2nd Prize
With Words International Online Haiku Competition (2009)

Sunday

Living Things

The weeping willow, despite its name, its curtain of low-sweeping boughs, does not weep over what is lost,does not grieve.

after her death
watching the rain
meeting the river

Beneath the bark, a layer of living cells divides and multiplies, expanding sapwood and heartwood, stretching the bark until it cracks and sheds to fit the new girth.

laughter lines—
the scar around my breast
faded now

Growth: out into the world, down into the dark earth, and up into the light.

Contemporary Haibun Volume 10
Red Moon Press 2009