Beverly A. Tift
Why There Are No More Supermen
Maybe that’s where the first cracks appeared—right between the rotary dial and coin return. Back when you could step inside a glass box, close the door, and emerge as someone braver, faster . . . kinder.
Now there’s nowhere left to change—only the half-second lag between the incoming text ding and the moment you answer.
sailing moon
reflected in his glasses
Clark Kent
holds out his hand
up, up, away
About the Author
Beverly A. Tift writes haibun, tanka prose, and haiku. Her recent work explores the absurd, the surreal, and other oddities. Some of her earlier work has appeared in Haibun Today, Contemporary Haibun Online, Frogpond, and The Heron’s Nest. She lives in Connecticut.
Ah Clark Kent! There are a few around though the villains are in temporary control!
Thank you, Alan—let’s hope they haven’t all retired to the park bench: smoking, drinking coffee and doom-scrolling.😉