Roberta Beary

Hail Mary Pass

My stepdaughter Eva sends a selfie from the protest. I glance at her daughter Willow on the sofa, pouring pretend tea to her teddies. Willow’s soft blond curls and broken blue eyes match Eva’s. Two hours pass before Eva sends a text, detained for disturbing the peace. I check her location. My chest tightens as I scroll my contacts. The Blessed Virgin, her foot on a snake, watches from the alcove.

 breaking news

Uncle Steve answers on the first ring. One of the good ones. Not a single brutality complaint. Passed over for promotion and overdue for retirement, my uncle spends his days teaching women self-defense at the community center. He promises to call back. When he does, he mentions a sergeant who tracks down the arresting officer. Eva is let go with a warning.

sunlight weaves

This story is not about Uncle Steve, who will call when he needs a loan. It’s not about Eva, who will never thank me for minding Willow, asleep with her teddy bears. This is about the Blessed Virgin, her foot on a snake, who watches from her alcove. Until. I get down. On my knees. And begin.

the spiderweb 

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About the Author

Roberta Beary, haibun editor of Modern Haiku, identifies as gender fluid and divides their time between the USA and Ireland. Winner of the Bridport Poetry Prize, they co-authored, with Lew Watts and Rich Youmans, Haibun: A Writer’s Guide (Ad Hoc Fiction, 2023). Recent books include their award-winning haiku collection Carousel (Snapshot Press, 2024) and Crazy Bitches: Selected Haibun, (MacQ, 2025).

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