Member Poem

It fell apart again today – she gave him a buzz-cut and now he looks like a neo-Nazi. He snapped at her, I swore at him and she’s cried so many tears there’s a little moon jelly on her parquet floor. I hug her, mutter something about the male ego, resist the urge to launch into Mars and Venus and tone it down to we’re different. This must be how siblings are – I wouldn’t know, I have three but we didn’t share a childhood – so I wipe up the jelly, resign myself to the mood that drifts on the air till supper. Now I hear him whistling, hold my breath as she sweeps though the room –

spring storm
new waves
in her piled-up hair

(First published in "Samurai" Haibun Competition 2017, Honorable Mention.)