P.H. Fischer

This Never Happened

Any of it. Our crunching through the leaves in the woodlot just beyond our subdivision. Charlie stopping stiff in his tracks. Dropping our rabbit trap. His face white as a birch. Bruce and I seeing what he’s seeing. A woman strung up with some boat rope. Her clothes piled next to the old oak. The wind nudging her drawn out body. Our breathing heaving. Me finally breaking the silence. Bruce calling me crazy. Us not telling a soul. Coming back the next day to poke around some more. Seeing nothing.  

hunter's moon
the clouds coming in
too fast

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About the Author

P.H. Fischer lives in Vancouver, Canada. He is co-editor of Prune Juice Journal. His poetry appears in international haiku/senryu/haibun journals and anthologies, including the Red Moon Anthology and contemporary haibun 18. He is the winner of the Vancouver category of the 2022 Haiku Invitational of the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival. Find him on Instagram @p.h.fischer.