Michele Root-Bernstein
Repairs
Painting his old room, I get to cover over years of furniture scuffs and other blunders.
ceiling cracks at right angles to the past
Back then, the heat builds up early on this side of the house. Cicada drone shudders across a deadfall of dirty clothes on the floor. Running shoes hang out their tongues. Tennis rackets press themselves against the pillows. Books and cd’s nest in sheets spilling off the bed.
window frames a forgotten edge of sky
From his lookout at the desk, my son fiddles with some sports cards. He is supposed to be cleaning things up. I knock on the doorjamb and he removes an earphone. I hear myself say again what I said then. “This room,” shaking my head, “this room is a disgrace!” But this time hindsight softens my words. I know now what comes next. Brian picks up an empty water bottle, takes aim at the wastepaper basket, and makes the toss. “No, it’s not,” he grins back. “It’s a habitat!”
baseboard molding the place where house joins home
About the Author
Michele Root-Bernstein devotes herself to haiku, haibun, and haiga. The former book review editor of Modern Haiku, she currently facilitates the Michigan-based Evergreen Haiku Study Group. Her e-chapbook Wind Rose (Snapshot Press) received a Haiku Society of America Merit Book Award honorable mention in 2020. She won the 2022 Snapshot Press Book Awards for her full-length collection Plainsong.
Beautiful piece, Michele–I can relate. Oh, to have them home again, messy room and all.