< meta charset="UTF-8"> Haibun Today: A Haibun & Tanka Prose Journal
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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 13, Number 4, December 2019
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Kat Lehmann
Guilford, Connecticut, USA


hideaway

The playground across the street from my mother’s apartment had four swings, a slide, and mulberry trees. Beyond the playground was the Pit, a large drainage ditch where my friend and I collected old bricks. Beyond the Pit were train tracks. Across the train tracks was an abandoned factory full of broken glass and old machinery. I wasn’t allowed to cross the train tracks, and the factory was definitely off-limits, but my dad and I went plenty of times. We would return from the factory with enormous rubber bands, as big as my dad, that were probably giant O-rings for some large apparatus that made whatever-it-was the factory used to make. We would slip the rubber bands over a mulberry tree branch and jump on them like bouncy swings. I told my mom the first time we went to the old factory. Upset as she was, I never told her again.

building a fort
what I tried to keep in
what I tried to keep out

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