WHR January 2017‎ > ‎

Haibun, January 2017

WHR Jan 2017


Brijesh Raj
All I get, is a shy shake of the head in response to my inquiry after her mistress. Draped in a nauvari* saree the color of spring shoots, she sports a welcoming if hesitant smile. I enter the posh apartment and busy myself with a little Beagle puppy who prefers my toes to his chew stick. She carries a tray with water for me, adjusting the saree pullu over her white hair with her left hand. I have rarely seen such serenity shine through so many wrinkles. I ask for the puppy’s vaccination records. She fetches first an air conditioning service warranty, then an upside down electricity bill.

               deepening night
               a destitute
               cements the sidewalk
*A traditional Indian Saree that is nine yards long.
…all day to kick off these shoes and put up my aching feet. For your too small hands to massage my calves and make me feel ticklish again. Until I burst into giggles and you sit on my legs in exasperation. Now surely, I can force my muscles to unknot. Ever so slowly let go the day?
I still remember the warm cocoon of our silences, shared over a good read and coffee.

            layered greys
            too early the dusk
            in my heart


 Jennifer Hambrick

I placed a sunflower on each of the headstones, then we said goodbye to the pairs of my grandparents, great-grandparents, great aunts and great uncles resting in the shade of an oak tree.
We left the graveyard and went downtown, where a magnificent salt water aquarium in the lobby of an office building caught my eye.  Amid swirls of ghost-like jellyfish, two seahorses bobbed in the undulating current, tails intertwined.

            fallen branch 
            empty nest 
            where two doves once lived