Evan Vandermeer
Comeuppance
When we pull up to my twin sister’s house on the day we’ve chosen to celebrate our 30th, she’s down the front porch steps greeting us before we’ve set foot from the car. That she bought this house a few months ago is something of a miracle, given how completely the past decade of her life has been one long drowning in myriad substances—a disappearance. But she’s a homeowner now, and a sober one (For now, I can’t help but reflexively think), so I figure a tour of the house will be the visit’s main event. Sure enough, it commences as soon as we’re inside—but it ends out back, at her struggling garden patch, where she pulls back a leaf on a single brilliant habanero.
the deluge lets up— wild violets
About the Author
Evan Vandermeer lives in South Bend, Indiana, where he completed his MA in English at Indiana University South Bend. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Twyckenham Notes, Eunoia Review, Jersey Devil Press, Grand Little Things, MacQueen’s Quinterly, and elsewhere. His haiku and haibun have appeared or are forthcoming in Frogpond, Modern Haiku, Presence, contemporary haibun online, and elsewhere.