Brooms Out Back

broom against a gray wall haibun

The broom rests against the vinyl siding adjacent to the storm door. Its yellow bristles scatter out like unkempt hair from one side. A black foam guard overlays a gray plastic staff. Mira steps outside, chattering with her sister overseas. She sweeps curled, yellowing maple leaves on-handed as she converses about God-knows-what in Portuguese. Even though the sun hasn’t set, crickets sing as a passing train and highway traffic drone on. She finishes sweeping, then heads inside.

Our friend M. once left her broom next to her back door. Her army-wife neighbors told her that is what military spouses do when their “backdoor man” is in!

I’m confident I don’t have that problem.

early twilight
rustling steps on
fallen leaves

Photo by Saskia Wustefeld

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Frank J. Tassone

Frank J. Tassone lives in New York City's "back yard" with his wife and son. He fell in love with writing after he wrote his first short story at age 12 and his first poem in high school. He began writing haiku and haibun seriously in the 2000s. His haikai poetry has appeared in Failed Haiku, Cattails, Haibun Today, Contemporary Haibun Online, Contemporary Haibun, The Haiku Foundation and Haiku Society of America member anthologies. He is a contributing poet for the online literary journal Image Curve, and a performance poet with Rockland Poets. When he's not writing, Frank works as a special education high school teacher in the Bronx. When he's not working or writing, he enjoys time with his family, meditation, hiking, practicing tai chi and geeking out to Star Wars, Marvel Cinema and any other Sci-Fi/Fantasy film and TV worth seeing.

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