evening glow—
I would be in the kitchen
for my husband

Suzuki, LH, 70

She set the steaming bowl of soup at his usual spot and waited anxiously for the familiar sound of keys rattling in the door and footsteps leading to the kitchen. The summer sun was just about gone from the sky, leaving a faint evening glow coming through the open window. It was the same routine every night—she would begin dinner around 5 p.m., pouring through her mother’s old book of recipes and cutting the portions down to serve two people, rather than a family of five. “Soon,” she thought as she smiled to herself, “I won’t have to cook the recipes in half. Soon, there will be another mouth to feed!”

She always had dinner ready and waiting by six, when, like clockwork, her husband would come through the door, set his briefcase down, and give her a gentle kiss on the cheek. It was the same thing every day, but she enjoyed the comfort of this routine. Today, however, she knew that the news she had received would be greatly affecting any sort of routine that had been established during their year and a half of marriage. She began caressing her belly, thinking of the life growing within her. The clock kept ticking. Where was her husband? He was never late without calling first, and the phone had been silent.

The steam from the soup had disappeared long ago, and the clock struck 7:00. That was when the phone rang—a shrill deafening ring that cut through the silence like a knife. It was the call that brought her world shattering down; there had been a terrible car accident, and her husband was in critical condition. She rushed to the hospital, only to find out that her lover had been paralyzed from the neck down.

She could not believe this sudden turn of events! How could such a joyous occasion be shattered by one phone call? What was she to do now? She knew things would not be easy, but she was a resilient, independent, and determined woman. She would stay by her lover’s side until death do us part. She would raise her child to appreciate every moment of every day.

Finally, the day came where she was able to bring her husband home. There was nothing else the doctors could do, and the prognosis was that he would never regain use of his body. Though he was now bed-ridden and out of work, she still insisted on maintaining her dinner routine. It was a comfort to her to have that one constant thing in her life, and she would not allow misfortune to get the best of her. She insisted on starting to cook dinner at five, and to begin eating as the evening glow of the setting sun began around six, just as if her husband was still coming home from work—not a moment earlier, not a moment later. It was her way of living her fantasy life, and for that hour in the kitchen, she would lose herself and her harsh realities as she cooked recipes from her childhood.

When their baby was born months later, both her and her husband had never been happier. Her husband’s spirits dramatically improved, and he loved watching and listening to his little son crawl, talk, and eventually walk, although it was from his bed. Since the accident, she and her husband truly began to realize the little miracles around them, and cherished the time they had together. She loved being a wife and mother, but nothing brought her more joy when every evening, when the sun was merely a dull glow in the sky, she would be in the kitchen for her husband.

steaming soup
small miracles
often go unnoticed

Alyssa Thompson

lofty sky—
my love carries
my travel bag

LH, Suzuki, 106

On a clear October afternoon the long awaited day has finally come.  He is so giddy with excitement he can’t wait for the train to finally come to a stop.  Seconds seem to take years to pass until finally he can see her.  He races over to where she is getting off the train to take her bags, never wanting her to strain herself in the littlest way.  As soon as they meet their love is reunited with a strong passionate kiss.  He has planned out the entire weekend of things for them to do but most of all he is just excited to see her again. 

As they leave the station, hand in hand, they just can’t seem to take their eyes off of one another.  The hour-long car ride to his house goes by way too quickly.  They never run out of things to talk to and even when they stop talking they are able to just sit there in a comfortable silence.  That evening the go to a romantic candlelight dinner and just seem to talk the night away. 

The next day it seems as though the weather couldn’t be any more picture perfect.  He has made the plans for them to take a stroll through the park and then have a relaxing picnic in the park.  Since he knows that she loves Broadway he has gotten them tickets to the matinee.  Surprising her once again he pulls out the tickets without her knowing what to expect and then even suggests that they can go shopping until the show starts.  She can’t even imagine what a better day could have been.  By the time that night has arrived she thinks that she nothing could be even better than what it has already been but he takes her to a five star restaurant only to be followed by a horse driven carriage ride around the town afterwards. 

Unfortunately it is Sunday morning once again, their fantasy weekend has regrettably come to an end.  The surprises are almost over yet he has one more surprise up his sleeve.  They go to a little coffee shop and develop all the pictures that they had taken that weekend.  It seems as even though it has only been one day; however, there are so many memories that their past weekend will last until they can finally meet again.  They finally had to go back to the train station where he will see her goodbye and with a tearful farewell they will be separated once again.

the train starts to go
one last kiss
he leaps off and waves

Amanda Aukerman

lingering daylight-
two bodies snuggle
goldfish in love

Suzuki, LH, 86

There were once two goldfish, Tui and La. They resided in a pet shop and lived in a bowl with blue stones beneath them and a green plant above them. Tui was a male and was colored with orange and black scales. La was his mate and she was colored with orange and white scales. Each day at dawn and at dusk the pair would do a dance where they would swim around each other slowly, weaving in and around one another’s fins.

One day, two gentlemen came into the pet shop and each wanted to buy a goldfish for their child. The shopkeeper explained to the gentlemen that Tui and La were his only goldfish and he wished to sell them as a pair. Both men wanted to buy them both but could not decide who had the right to do so. Sadly, the shopkeeper scooped Tui and La out of their bowl one by one and split them apart to the two men.

Tui was taken home to be put into a tank with several other fish. They were all small, dark fish that swam back and forth within the tank; constantly pacing from wall to wall. Tui was the only fish in that tank to move freely of his own accord to explore his surroundings. When Kiyo, the gentleman’s son, arrived home he was excited to see the addition to his fish tank. He admired Tui’s glittering orange scales amidst the dark of the other fish. But like any young boy, Kiyo became quickly bored with watching Tui swim around went to receive his birthday presents. That was why Tui had been bought for Kiyo, as a birthday present.

La was less lucky. She was taken home to a girl named Hana. The girl was four and deeply loved the beautiful goldfish shimmering like a jewel in the round bowl. Unlike Tui who was curious about the ornate tank he was placed in, La was lonely and bored within her simple, glass prison. She did not swim around; she merely floated along the bottom deep in despair.

Kiyo was very excited after receiving his birthday presents, one of which had been a live turtle. Kiyo’s father had said he could either keep the turtle or his fish, but not both because the turtle would have to live in the tank and would probably eat all the little fish. The young boy eagerly chose the turtle over the fish because he could play with this pet. The next day, Kiyo went to school and asked his classmates if they were interested in adopting some of his fish. Several of them accepted and came to his home later that day to claim their fish. The first child to arrive immediately chose Tui as the fish she wanted and rushed home with him.

In Hana’s room, La was still very lonely. Even more so since the little girl who had been paying her attention had gone to school. In the afternoon, La noticed that the girl had returned and looked up at her expectantly. The girl was acting strangely; she had her hands behind her back and was smiling. Carefully, Hana emptied the contents of a clear, plastic bag into La’s bowl. With a small plop, Tui appeared in the water beside La. The two fish swam close to each other excitedly. Noticing that the sun was beginning to set, the two fish began their dance. Hana was very pleased that her new pets were happy and made sure to take care of them until they dance no more.

goldfish pair
their
infinite dance

Andy Jones

hazy spring night—
a woman too with a cigarette
between her teeth

Suzuki, LH, 83

Above, the sky expanded to a sea of colorful lights and muted, hazy, orangey night sky. The smoke lazily drifted upward to escape from the cramped alleyway. Sounds of a bustling metropolis drifted in and was retaliated with a vigorous, lively kitchen and chatty regular customers; somehow, the latter seemed to win by a long shot. Above my head was a bare light with moths flickering about the light, continuously hitting up against the glass, bouncing back, only to be so fascinated that they dove straight back to begin the process over again. Their battered wings fluttered relentless, just like their actions toward the light. My eyes watched them for a few moments as I took another drag on my cigarette. Nice enough night out. My hand moved out of habit, removing the cigarette and tapping the loose ashes from the end of it.

The wall against my back felt warm, but not enough to cause my clothes to stick to my skin. That would probably change in a month or so. But for now… Well, what would become of things in a month, I was unsure. I had been before, but the crinkled paper in my left hand made the sinking feeling all the worse. That funny feeling in my chest--some may have argued it was the cigarettes--bothered me, as it often did when I found these little notes, came out here, and smoked a couple cigarettes. For it being busy everywhere else, it was certainly quiet in this spot. All except for the burning of tobacco and the soft tch, tch, tchtchtch of the light above me. I was seeing spots still from looking directly up into the light too long. Greens and yellows rimmed the black, wanning dots.

Another weekend alone, another weekend to myself. I had plenty of things to do that needed to be done, that would take up the weekend and then some, many a thing that could be done around here. Cleaning in the apartment, could catch up with a few old friends, some business related acquaintances. …but that did not mean I did not want to see him, to be with him . . . These notes seemed worse with each time, but this time in particular…Some would have argued that I need not smoke so much; they were probably right.

I think I heard someone say my name from inside, but all I did was unfold the note one more time to read it. The yellow paper had been crinkled, folded, smashed so many times since that afternoon that edges have begun to wear and words had begun to fade away. This time, he won’t be back.This time it won't be just the weekend. The longer the notes, the longer he is away.

A moth landed at my feet, twitching, flapping its tattered wings uselessly. It rolled over and over and in a circle, struggling to get back on its feet, and more importantly, back up in the air. It hit a few glowing, carcinogenic ashes and jerked away, spiraling the rest of its life away into the shadows of the alleyway.

He had kissed me in this exact spot many times. I lit another cigarette.

lukewarm brick
with a cigarette
I burn through his words

Aubrie Cox

no escaping it—
I must step on fallen leaves
to take this path

Masajo Suzuki

In my mind this haiku creates a story. The story starts with a young man who has moved to a new town. He’s in high school and has become friends with many of the other students. Then he sees a girl and instantly falls in love. However, many of his friends say that they, and many other male students, have tried to go out with her but never succeeded. He still talks to her anyway, and slowly they become friends. Then a little while after that, they begin to become more than just friends. Some of his friends become more persistent, and keep telling him to not even try it.

He ignores them, and a little while later, the two are dating. Again, the same set of friends object to him going out with her, and tell him to end it. He quickly stops hanging out with those people, and he makes more friends who support his relationship. The couple is incredibly happy, they go out to do things all the time, and the student believes that he has taken the right path. One day while they are both walking through the park, that changes. While they are sitting on a bench they begin to argue. The arguments ends with both of them stomping off and going home. A day passes, and they both have a child’s stubbornness, and refuse to admit they were wrong and say sorry. After school that day, the boy is doing his homework thinking “I’ve done nothing wrong. There’s NO WAY I’ll apologize first.” Immediately after he gets done thinking that, the ground shakes. He immediately gets out his seat and goes to see what’s going on.

Before he can get to the door, however, a massive shake knocks him off his balance, and he slams, head first, into a wall. When he finally wakes up, he realizes that he is under rubble. Pushing it off and standing up, he realizes that the city is in ruins. The unknown disaster had annihilated everything. Then his heart stops, and he thinks “Is she alright?”. He goes for his car, but realizes that it’s not only totaled, but he doesn’t have the keys to get in it anyways. So he goes by foot. Going through the city all he sees is destroyed homes, mauled power lines, and other people who were less fortunate then him. He stops for a moment, and before him, he sees on of the people who had told him that his relation ship would never work out. He shudders, and takes it like a grim prediction of the future. After walking through destroyed streets and over the destroyed fragments of the city, he reaches the park where he and his girlfriend got into their fight. He walks through it and arrives at the center of the park, and thinks “alright, I’m halfway to her house not much further to go…” Then he pauses, and realizes that he hasn’t seen any other survivors. Not one.

He begins to panic “what…what if she’s not there…what if she’s already…” His whole body tenses up and he keeps trying to not think about it, trying not to finish that thought. Out of nowhere he suddenly gets a feeling of resolve, and thinks “there’s no running away now, I’ve got to keep going. I’ve stepped on the rubble of this fallen city and I have to take this path…even if it turns out that she’s not at the end of it.” With this newfound energy he goes to run out of the park, but his eyes meet hers. She’s standing at the exit to the park, staring at him. After a few moments of stunned disbelief, they run into each other’s arms. Without saying a word, they both forgive each other for their foolish stubbornness. After some discussion, he finds out that she, just like him, dug herself out of some rubble and was going to his house to see if he was safe. Together, they both head for the exit of the city to look for help.
(no escaping, cont…)

never knowing
our relationship--
then I couldn’t reach you

Brett Coffman

(missing)

Daniel Fishel

fruit of my labor:
this cherry blossom viewing
kimono,

Suzuki, LH, 84

This haiku reminds me of my high school years. I worked really hard to get A’s in all my classes. It was something that my parents wanted me to do, but I told myself that getting B’s were not acceptable. I played volleyball, basketball, and softball all four years. I was involved in band, NHS, scholastic bowl, SADD, RA, Varsity Club, school play, Editor-in-Chief and Sports Editor of the school newspaper, Yearbook, photographer for all the sports, Foreign language club, Senior class president, meals-on-wheels and WYSE competition. I seemed to be the “Ms. Lovington High School” in my four years at Lovington. I prided myself on being able to handle the load of homework, practices, games, and concerts. I held myself to very high standards in whatever activity I did. I was very stressful at a lot of points in high school. I leaned on my parents and friends to help me out when I did get too stressed out. When my senior year came rolling around, I could not believe it. It did not seem it was my last year at Lovington. It was a year of an emotional roller coaster for me. School started out well with my classes and volleyball. In the middle of September out class took a horrible loss; we lost a classmate because of severe health problems. We all took it very hard, because we all thought that since he got his bone marrow transplant he was going to be fine. He ended up getting a fungus he could not fight off, because his immune system was wiped out because of the transplant. The volleyball team wore ribbons on our jerseys in his honor. We finished the season with a pretty good season. I received many honors and awards. The night before my first basketball practice; my grandpa died from double pneumonia along with Parkinson’s disease and Alzheimer’s disease. I was extremely sad, but also relieve that he was finally free. Basketball went very well for me. My team had the forth best record in school history. I scored over a 1000 points and rebounds. I became the third generation in my family to score 1000 points. I received many awards and honors and even got to play in an all-star game. By the end of my high school career, I earned many awards, honors, and scholarships. My proudest achievement was being awarded the Presidential scholarship from Millikin University. I freaked out and made my mother think I got in a wreck because she couldn’t understand what I was saying. Graduation came and that made me really look back at my four years, and I honestly couldn’t be more proud of myself for all the accomplishments through the four years. I had many people come up to me and say that I should be proud of my accomplishments.

looking back at
those four years—
how’d I do it?

Elise Wildman

a woman’s hatred
is what I have invited—
bats flying

Suzuki, LH, 90

In this haiku, I imagined Masajo Suzuki herself as the “main character” in my story. She is in love with a man who is married and he loves her too. They sneak around so that they can be together. However, the man’s wife is very suspicious about this. She realizes her husband is around less and less. One night, Masajo and her lover are meeting in a garden in town at night. But, her lover doesn’t know that his wife has followed them to the garden. When she sees Masajo and her husband together, she approaches them and starts screaming and pulls her husband away. As Masajo is standing there alone in the garden, she realizes what has just happened. The woman has caught the two together and now will have nothing but hatred towards her. She doesn’t care about this as much as she cares about him. She knows that his wife will be keeping a very watchful eye on her husband from now on and it will be harder for her to see him. As she’s standing in the garden, four or five bats come flying out of a dark corner and scare her. She screams and runs back home.

stars in the sky
we share a kiss
as your wife rounds the corner

Erin Knott

waterfall in winter—
it quiets itself
and falls

Suzuki, LH, 97

This reminded me of a walk I recently took through Fairview Park. It was still winter, so there was snow on the ground and the bodies of water we passed were frozen. As we were walking, we saw many cool things. One of my favorites was this birch tree that was standing amongst a large group of brown trees (not certain of their type…most likely many varied types.) Even though there was snow about, it merely speckled the other trees and thus the whiteness of those trees paled in comparison (pun not intended.) It seemed as if the other trees were either trying to make the lonely tree feel at home with them (when I personify it as lonely, I mean that the tree was the only one of its kind.)

the birch stands
among the snow specked branches
of the pinewood forest

What connected this walk with the haiku by Suzuki was not only the winter imagery but there was a fountain we passed by that was covered in ice. Well, all of it but the actual fountain (it was more like a fountain in a pond.) There were geese and ducks covering its surface, and it was one of the most beautiful things I have seen in quite some time.

a stagnant fountain—
loose-necked geese
walk the surface

Gordon Gilmore

autumn meditation—
a hand pressed to
wet sand

Suzuki, LH, 107

When thinking of this haiku, I imagine myself in the future. Through all walks of life we like to leave little pieces of ourselves to be remembered in our sibling’s lives, but more importantly, to improve the lives of our kin. When reading this haiku, I envision myself in the future with my children on the beach. As the leaves are falling, we make our way to the sandy beach. Once we get to be beach we spend the whole day playing in the water. We find a cool spot to sit where the sand is still wet and start to build a castle. Together we construct a beautiful castle and play in it bringing the medieval times back to life. We are being careful to shape the walls and castle turrets perfectly so we can take a picture for mom.

We continue to play in the water and perfect the castle until the sun starts to set. At this time we look at the beautiful sky and I explain to my son why the sky looks the way it does. At this time, the water almost takes on a mystifying appearance because of the way the last rays of sunlight bounce off it. At that moment I grabbed my son’s hand and walked to the line where water meets dry land. I gently take my son’s hand and carefully press it to the wet sand, along with my own, to act as a seal on the beauty where magic meets reality. We carefully make the handprints to show all five fingers and empty shell where the finger had been.

With magical hands
We shape Mother Nature
Into a beautiful scene

Jason Chmiel

winter mist—
memories of embracing
and being embraced

Suzuki, LH, 74

It is a winter night and I am awoken by the sounds of my dog, Lucky, who needs to go out. Sighing, I put the leash on her and step outside. There’s a slight mist in the air and it hits my face, but I do not flinch. As I stand outside with Lucky my thoughts start to drift back to the previous winter. That was the year of my first love, Matt. It had all started when we met in our freshman English class. Our teacher was a fan of seating charts, and since Matt’s last name started with the same letter as mine, we were seated next to each other. We introduced ourselves, but didn’t really say much to each other at first. Then came that fateful day when he wore a Less Than Jake t-shirt. Less Than Jake was my favorite ska band of all time, and of course I had to let him know. He seemed shocked that I even knew what ska was, but it didn’t matter. After that we started talking a lot. By the time the semester was over, we had become friends, and I hoped we’d become something more.

As I take Lucky back inside, my thoughts flash forward to the night in February when I found out that he liked me too. We had been sitting on my couch watching Lord of the Rings. We’d hung out before but tonight there seemed to be a special vibe in the air. Matt seemed nervous for some reason, and was talking more than usual. In the middle of the movie he started talking about the painting of the Last Supper above my TV. He got up to point something out and as he sat back down he put his arm around me. I leaned into him, and that was all it took. After that night he became my boyfriend.

Now my thoughts were flowing much faster as I remembered some of my favorite moments with him. First I thought back to one of our first days as a couple when we made brownies. I remembered how he surprised me with a kiss when his dad left the house and how he almost forgot to add the eggs because he was having too much fun dabbing my nose with the dough-y spoon. This reminded me of our first kiss ever, when we were downstairs in his basement. We had just finished watching The Breakfast Club and now a show about gangster guns, of all subjects, was showing on the History Channel. I thought about how we liked to go on long walks together and go to the park and swing, toes touching the sky. I remembered how we could talk for hours on end and never run out of things to say. Finally my thoughts settled on a night when we were standing out on the beach, just holding each other and watching the waves. We had been standing for a long time without saying anything at all. Then he told me that he loved me. It was such a perfect moment.

the first I love you
as we watch the waves
ocean spray

Jessica Villarreal

hazy night—
the key to my apartment house
the key to my pub

Masajo Suzuki, LH, 67

The night has finally come to an end, and I am alone in the bar. It’s time to close up Tables and chairs are scattered about, and a few napkins have been left sporadically on the floor. The wet rag in my hand is dripping with suds and I begin to scrub the bar counter. Making my way towards the tables I pass the jukebox and press a few buttons. Frank’s voice carries me through the evening as I dance about picking up chairs, trying to make the room look suitable for the next evening. I hate the nights that I have to close a lone; something about this old bar has always given me a chill.

Al, he’s the guy that runs this joint, is always telling me about old Madeline the widower. He tells me that the nights he closes she’s always up to mischief. Madeline used to spend ours in the bar. She dressed herself in drapes of pearls—both black and white—and her ears were drug down by mammoth size emerald earrings. She’d tell us of her many husbands—Frank and Gary were nice she’d say, but Tom was the one that threw her over the edge. Truth be told none of us really know what she was talking about, or if Frank, Gary, and Tom actually existed, but she was company, and a conversation with her would make any slow night fly by, so we listened.

Then one day she just stopped coming. I figured she'd gone on vacation or had found another lover of sorts. But Al seemed awfully worried. He had known Madeline for five years now, and shed never skipped out on an evening at the bar. After a week went by Al reported her missing to the police. They thought he was a bit nutty, considering he’d only seen her at the bar, and knew absolute nothing about her except for the fact that her name was Madeline, and that she had three ex-husbands: Frank, Gary, and Tom. But the urgency in his voice must have convinced them because they began an investigation to find this old woman… Four days later they found her out in the alley…murdered.

That all happened about two years ago and most nights I don’t think about it. But on these nights, the nights that I have to close thoughts of Madeline always creep into my head. Who killed her? Was it Tom, the one she swore was trouble? Or was she really so troubled that she decided to take her own life? I really didn’t know, and the police never found and leads on who would have committed the crime, so eventually they dropped it.

Once I finished scrubbing the tables and had throw the glasses into the wash I went for my keys. As I went to the backroom I heard a clanking followed by a scream. I tried to shake it from my head, tried telling myself it was just me freaking myself out. But the blood had already started rushing from my fingers and I was starting to get light headed and terrified. I turned the corner and grabbed my keys, my coat, and bolted for the back door. Yanking on the back door I swung it opened and then quickly slammed it shut once I was outside. I jangled the keys in my hand trying to find the right one to lock up. My fear was making my hands shake and my vision blurry so this simple task had just become as difficult as a triathlon. Finally I got the right keys, shoved them into the key hole, turned them, pulled them out and ran as quickly as possible to my apartment in the dark night. As I ran I was certain that someone was following. I picked up the pace and made my way through the fog. Reaching my apartment I leapt for the front door and closed it shut behind me leaving all my weight on the door for a good five minutes while I caught my breath. Madeline had been following me home. I knew it. And she wanted something from me…but I wasn’t sure what.

dark night…
her shadow
lurks behind me

Kersten Haile

(missing)

Lauren Robertson

that night sobbing alone—
up to my forehead
in the summer sheets

Suzuki, LH, 68

When I first read this haiku, I thought it was referring to the end of a relationship. After re-reading it however, I feel that this haiku is about a wife whose husband has just passed away suddenly. The devastation that she feels is indescribable. She crawls into her bed and begins to sob uncontrollably. She wants to be left alone to grieve. By pulling the lightweight white cotton sheets up to her forehead, she is hoping that she can escape under them and when she wakes up this nightmare will be over and her husband will still be alive. She is willing to give anything to get her husband back. I can feel her wet tears streaming down her cheeks, and feel how swollen her eyes are from crying. I can feel the headache that she has from crying so forcefully for so long. She lies in her bed for hours and hours but cannot sleep. There is a gently breeze coming through the window but it offers no comfort to her. She does not have kids, otherwise she would be comforting them. Since this is her initial stage of grief, she is not yet strong or stable enough to think about funeral arrangements or anything else that she needs to take care of. The only thought consuming her mind is that she has lost the one person that she loves most in the world and she cannot imagine how horrible it will be to live her life without her irreplaceable husband.

sobbing into my pillow
a life alone
without you here

Lindsay Scully

no escaping it
i must step on fallen leaves
to take this path

Masajo Suzuki, LH, 95

This haiku seems to be a continuation of the haiku mentioned above. I see more than the moment, I see the history of the moment. This moment, the walking down of the path, has happened many times before, however this time, something is different. Before she would be walking back, arm in arm with her loving husband. They enjoy each others company on the way home, relaxing from their stressful day apart from each other. But now, something is different. Her husband is out of the picture and she is alone. The fallen leaves are memories that are painfully present with every step. She can’t help but imagine her husband next to her, no matter how strong she chooses to fight it. The trees hanging over the road are intimidating, and threaten as if to reach down with their bare limbs and hold her there to face her lost husband’s memories for eternity.

flashes of memory
as leaves crunch
beaneth my feet

Matt Chmiel

lingering daylight-
two bodies snuggle
goldfish in love

Suzuki, LH, 86

In this haiku, I see the koi (not "goldfish") swimming in my aunt's pond at her old house in Beardstown before she moved to her horse ranch. The pond was in her high, wooden fenced backyard surrounded by the brick patio that consumed the whole yard. The pond had its own little corner; shade protecting the fish from extreme heat. I remember kind of feeling like a fish because in her backyard there was also a swimming pool and I would go swimming in it with my aunt, cousin, and mother to cool down when my mom and I would visit--which was just about every other weekend. My mom and I would spray lemon juice in our hair and let the sun lighten our hair (my hair was lighter then anyway) and then the sun would go down and we'd all have to go inside. I'd dry off and go find one of my aunt's cats (she had four at the time) and cuddle up with the cat on the couch and watch movies with them. That is what I remember and imagine when I read this haiku.

Michelle Dixson

my betrayed husband—
I wash his tombstone
with meticulous care

79, Masajo Suzuki, Love Haiku

Walking alone one night back to his apartment, Kyle notices a quiet little diner right off of the road he is walking down. Knowing Jake, his husband, would already be asleep in their tiny apartment, and that making something to eat this late would surely wake him up he decides to go in to the diner for a bite to eat. He hangs a left and quickly walks down the side road to the little diner.

Once in the diner he find himself a seat at the counter and a friendly middle aged waitress asks: “What can I get ya hun?”

“Can I please have a burger and fries?” He kindly replies, and the waitress nods and writes it down and gives it to the cook. Kyle begins looking around and notices he the only one in the diner and asks the waitress if business is usually this slow.

“We should be in for a rush any moment now. We usually get a big rush when the gay clubs around the corner start closing for the night,” she answers.

Wondering how long it would take for this “rush” to come, he begins to think over the fight he had with Jake. They had been talking about adopting children, and though Jake was the older one of the two of them, he was the one dead set against having children. Kyle so desperately wanted a family but with this recent fight was wondering if he would ever be able to have one if he stayed with Jake. So many things just weren’t adding up to him. He loves Jake but wants a family and if Jake isn’t willing to have a family with him should he stay in a relationship that, in his opinion, wasn’t going anywhere?

Just then, a rush of noise filled the room as the door to the diner flew open. The source of the noise was the fifteen young men that were jumping, singing, and dancing through the door. Everyone seemed paired to another except for one. He was at the back of the crowd that had just come in and seemed rather quiet in comparison to the rest of his friends. They filled up every booth in the diner and a few of the chairs at the counter. In the chair next to Kyle the quiet one sits.

Kyle flushes as he catches the scent that this young man is wearing. He seems to be about Jake’s age and has an incredible smile that makes Kyle slow in realizing that he’s introducing himself to him. Kyle shakes his hand and asks what his name is again explaining that it’s loud and that he didn’t catch it the first time.

“Hunter, and yours?”

“Kyle.”

The two start talking and seem to be having a great time. Hunter is a musician and Kyle always wanted to write music, so the two immediately start conversing about theory and harmony and the sort. Finally Hunter asks Kyle if he would like to come back to his apartment and hear him play. Thinking back on their conversation he says ok and they head off for Hunter’s place. They just make it through the door when Hunter begins to kiss Kyle. Kyle feeding off of the passion kisses back the two begin stubling into the apartment shedding clothing and kissing along the way. They make it to the couch and Kyle’s cell phone rings. He doesn’t recognize the number so he doesn’t answer it but realizes what was just happening and says goodbye to Hunter.

Once he is back at home he runs for the bed room. He feels compelled to tell Jake what happened. He wants to explain he still loves him and with or without a child he is happy right where he is, but when he gets to the bed room, Jake isn’t there. Puzzled, Kyle check the bathroom. Still no luck. Yelling out for Jake, Kyle walks to the kitchen and there on the counter finds a note from Jake. It reads: “was worried, went to look for you, be back soon, Love Jake”

Picking up the phone Kyle calls Jake’s phone but only reaches the voice mail. He puts the phone down and notices the answering machine light flashing. He pushes the button and listens while a police officer’s voice reports that there has been an accident and Jake has been hurt.

Stunned, Kyle pulls out his cell phone and calls the number the police officer had left on the machine. The same police officer that had called earlier answered and gives Kyle the news. Jake had been out looking for him and had accidently been hit by a car. The driver was speeding and the crashed killed both he and Jake on impact.

Months after the funeral Kyle still goes out to the cemetery every Friday and leaves flowers on his late husband’s grave. While he’s there he makes sure that the tombstone is immaculate because he knows how important it was to Jake that everything be clean and tidy. Feeling overwhelmingly guilty for his betrayal Kyle keeps up the regimen of laying flowers and cleaning the grave until he passes away 53 years later.

love of my life
can you forgive me
from beyond the grave

Nick Chivers

evening glow—
I would be in the kitchen
for my husband

Masajo Suzuki, LH, xx

I think that in this haiku, the husband is gone and so the woman keeps reflecting on what she would be doing if he were still here. She goes through her day and no matter how hard she tries not to think of him, everything she does reminds her of him. Because her life is changed now, nothing she does is the same as she did before. Because of this, she thinks about how everything used to be and wishes that it could go back to that way.

In the morning, she wakes up in her bed alone. She is used to him being next to her when she wakes up. She is also used to making enough coffee in the morning for two people, but now she only needs enough for herself. While she measures out the coffee grounds, she is reminded of him just because it’s different. Now she goes to work and although she is used to being there without him, she thinks about going back to an empty house after work. There is nobody to call while on lunch to make plans for dinner later. She will probably be eating dinner alone.

After work, she comes home to an empty house. It is quiet and cold. There are no warm greetings or promises of someone coming home to spend the evening with. There is such a difference between one and two. It is the greatest difference there is. The difference between being alone and with one other person is tremendous. The difference between two and three or three and four is not so great. Although a mathematician wouldn’t agree, this woman realizes and can feel the great difference between one and two. She makes dinner alone, eats dinner alone, and watches television alone. Her days go by slow and she just hopes for the next one. She wishes for the love that she has lost and doubts that she can find anything like it. At night, she goes to sleep alone, and again, she is reminded of how different it would be if he were here.

This woman’s world is turned upside down from the absence of just one person. She has friends, so she is not always alone, but the one person who was always there is now gone and there is nothing she can do to get him back. All she can think about is what used to be and wish for it to return to normal, but knows it never will.

laying in bed
I’m reminded of you
rain hits the window

Nicole Zbrinas

without regret . . .
is such a life possible?
beer foam overflowing

Suzuki, 70, LH

Bob sits in a bar contemplating. Bob is contemplating because Bob has terrible luck. Bob’s girlfriend of three years dumped him on their anniversary, he lost his job the next day because the company he worked for got taken over, and because he could no longer afford the rent of the condo that he was renting he had to move across town to a bad neighborhood and is currently living in a disgusting flat. So Bob is sitting in a smokey bar contemplating his life. Thoughts of why didn’t I do this and why didn’t I do that run through Bob’s mind. He drinks another beer. As the bartender pours him another mug Bob tries to clear his head and try to move himself back into reality, into the present. In the end though Bob can only think of the past and the what ifs….

Glasses clink in a smokey room
As a mind whirls into the past
What if…

Pat Thacker