Ruth Holzer
Post Street
The four-story apartment building once boasted the Chandleresque name of The Halcyon, but its glory days had long since passed and when we lived there it was known only by its street number. On the fringe of the Tenderloin, it was a haven for drug dealers and prostitutes. Routine commotions in the corridors when the cops would raid and make mass arrests. Not that we ever called them—everyone minded their own business. Our room had a bed that dropped down from the closet, barely clearing the kitchen table. The window faced the blank rear of a building on Geary. Three years marked by betrayals and drunken reconciliations before I escaped that rattrap.
shriek of alarm—
firemen break down
the wrong door
About the Author
Ruth Holzer‘s poems have appeared previously in contemporary haibun online as well as in Acorn, Frogpond, Modern Haiku, Presence, red lights, and Ribbons. She has served as a co-editor of Haibun Today and assistant editor of tinywords. Her haibun collection, Home and Away, is available from dancing girl press.