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haibun poetry

Haibun Poetry

 

I sit on your beige sofa across from you in your living room. Mike — your husband, my fraternity brother— prepares the VHS tape. Of your wedding.

There is a moment when he’s in the kitchen. I see you, seated cross-legged, some serene Buddha of a woman. Only a hint of the passion we shared permeates in that fleeting look of awkward reminiscence. A guilty pleasure you quickly hide from him when he steps back in.

Somewhere else in your apartment your son sleeps. The video starts. I pretend each scene isn’t a peeling knife scalping off layer after layer of me. Our time passed long ago, but scars can still bleed. And ache.

The video ends. The night ends. I step out into a cold January night — a numb grief, long-muted, my only company as I head home.

Alone.

full moon
our breath misting the windshield
long past

more by FRANK J. TASSONE

Photograph by Gianni Scognamiglio

 

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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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