Simply Haiku: A Quarterly Journal of Japanese Short Form Poetry
About Simply Haiku
Spring 2008, vol 6 no 1
An Unexpected Chill
The southwest sun sets into purple dusk. The
San Gabriel mountains make a rippling black
line. Breezes blow soft and fragrant with white
flowers - gardenia, honeysuckle, jasmine. I am
eighteen, doing cartwheels in the warm grass.
Suddenly, I fall. Hard. I can't rise or turn around
but I catch the moon shining silver on the blade
of a butcher knife...
The next day dawns as if nothing has happened.
Handprints around my neck gradually fade, and
with them, memories of that night. I don't know
it yet, but the pain of the moon's cold betrayal
as she failed to save me will deepen.
the rapist's broken rosary
lying in the grass
hortensia anderson is the author of numerous chapbooks as well as
a volume of poetry, TRUST (fly-by night press, 1995).
Currently, she serves as haibun editor for moonset, the newspaper.
She lives precariously on dialysis in nyc's east village with her bengal
leopard cat, Camellia and faithful companion, Pain.
Copyright 2008: Simply Haiku