Three Micro Haibun by Marie C Lecrivain

 

perfection

Walking home, I spot a crane in the cement shallows of Ballona Creek. Pure white, and black-billed, it dips its head in the murky water for a drink, then flies away, a trail of ripples in its wake.

I live a lifetime

between one heartbeat

and the next

rota

Feed the pets. Make coffee. Open the curtains and let the sun punch you in the face. Today, you play music instead of listening to the news. You dance with your cat, who’s not amused. 

iced coffee

and tame impala 

break the cycle

the other brother    

Late night gyros. Tumblers of cranberry juice. Photos of the Hagia Sophia. Your face, like your mother’s, doesn’t include calculation. You don’t know I’m leaving. After 23 years, we finally speak. Now, I don’t want to go.

by the next full moon

i ‘ll be on

a new adventure

Marie C Lecrivain is an author, and curator of two literary blogs,

 

Al-Khemia Poetica: A Women’s Arts and Writing Journal, 

Dashboard Horus: A Bird’s Eye of the Universe.

 

Her work’s been published in Gargoyle, Nonbinary Review, Orbis, and various journals. She’s currently writing her first novella.