Haibun Today
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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Editor
Volume 5, Number 2, June 2011



Eduardo del Valle
Newark, New Jersey, USA

 

Labor Weekend

Driving north on what never was the hurricane's wake, sunlight splashes on the rust-spotted blue hood, tree shadows glide on the convex metal windward, through the windshield. Moving at unlawful speed, no longer against friction or flow, drifting unmeasured to our destination—just as slowly as it now seems (hadn't it been so all this summer, come to think, all others before as well?)—through all that space to this waning moment, to the inevitable juncture.

striped maples—
bleeding 10K gold
 so soon on the hills

"Roll up the window," she whispers, "it's getting cold." The wind bays as the glass glides up into its rubber cleft. "She'd be okay," as my grip on the wheel tightens to bone-white balls, "she's—" "She's just a baby." By the time we arrive a brush-stroked sky to the east, overhead a marble-strewn white, puffs of platinum-grey, flaring to foaming ripples of ginger plum cerise, across Champlain.

Seventeen: not as long a labor when you look back.

katydids wing on
summer's
last wind

end

 

 

 

 

 

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