Thanksgiving Weekend 2012

thanksgiving poem

Haibun Poem

 

Thanksgiving Day, November 22nd

Another wave of sickness strikes. I’m on my knees over the master bath toilet. Orange-and-brown bile fills water and stains the porcelain rim, along with the painted walls and freshly-washed tile.

Blackness. A slow awakening, questions. How did I get here? Why did I wake up in Dad’s bed?

All I know for sure is the sickness. And the company I’ve abandoned.

brittle leaves
covering the yard
early departures

November 23rd

Grass has grown full and green over Dad’s grave. The monument looks as new as the first day I saw it last summer.

Mom, Rob and I stare in silence. It’s her anniversary — the first without him. She hasn’t shed a tear today —yet.

leafless maples
Interstate traffic noise
drones on

 

more by FRANK J. TASSONE

photograph by Annie Spratt

 

Image Curve’s Manifesto

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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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