The Morning After

Haibun Poem

Haibun Poem

 

Her cup of Columbian Supremo cools atop of a crumpled copy of the Journal News, spread over the kitchen table like leaves across the lawn. She stands by the kitchen sink, inhales another drag on a half-smoked Marlboro, stares out the window, not seeing the cracked blacktop or the rust on the basketball hoop.

There’s no sign of yesterday’s overcooked prime ribs. No trace of aroma from the baked yams or steamed avocados. No echo of the scream, the slap.

The silence.

Just her, another grandma. With a swollen right cheek.

Stained window
Breeze scattering leaves up
Any Maple Street

more by FRANK J. TASSONE

Photograph from unsplash.com

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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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