Hyena-dark, alone I
a haibun collaboration with Zev
Princess Diana was beauty. Or Princess Diana was clad in beauty. The frozen in flames, ambered kind of timeless youth. So was my brother. A retard, entrapped at a certain age. Except that being buried, his existence was exploded. Torn apart into million pieces, and minced flesh and gore is what remains of his youth, and sure, a piece of his coat, our address sewn over it. I always used to think death was an abstraction: something soothing, calm, like a sea after a storm, or the sea bed, unaffected, indifferent to any touching of the azure wires of the harp above. But, oh, grief is my thought, and the ugly granite facts.
hand on my heavy cloak
summer sun on his eyes, light —
“take me saving worlds”
This haibun is part of the Hands in Haibun collaboration. The prose is written by Zev. Visit the original post at:
