| Current Issue | Contents Page - This Issue | Editorial Staff | About This Journal | Submissions |
| Acceptance Criteria | Haibun Definitions | Articles | Archives | Search | Red Moon Press |

July 1, 2012, vol 8, no 2

| Contents | Next |

Bob Lucky

A Lesson in Something


warm night
the clink of ice
in my glass
remembering the glint
of grandpa's ice pick

My grandfather wakes me long before sunrise. We eat breakfast in silence and then load the tools into the bed of the pickup. At the icehouse, he works large blocks of ice into his water coolers. I watch as if I'm learning something.


Up late after finishing a project for work, I stare at a photo of my father. It's been two months since he died and I still haven't cried. Last night I dreamt about him for the first time. All he said was shut up.

stepping out
to admire the moon –
in the shadows
my own dog barks at me
until I call her name