This haibun is in response to two prompts. My head is full of story and it’s hard coming out of it. I’m terrified I’ll lose my grip on one of the many threads, so I’m economising my words.
“I’m quite tired of beating myself up to write. I think I’ll start letting the words slip out like a tired child. “Can I have a piece of pie” he asks, and then he’s asleep back on the cusp of the moon.” ~ Jim Harrison from Songs of Unreason
In the dark, clutching the horns of the moon, afraid of falling into needle-sharp stars, she sleeps, fitfully, rocked in her precarious cradle, while silver sharks nibble her toes, and in the garden, the moon hound howls.
Fear is grey, parched
and moist—it sings the song of
no morning after.