Two Tankas and a Haiku

On the Edge

Every hour she wakes,
To gently drag her child back
In from the bed’s edge;
Half-woken, I idly muse
Who is the one on the edge.


All night I miss her
little fingers wrapped in mine
while she slept steadfast,
and rue our resolve to make
her learn to sleep on her own.


This foreign summer
I saw an ant take a piss,
dehydrate and die.

Posted on August 7, 2013, in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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