haikai

First Contact: A #TBT (10/18/18) #haibun featuring my latest from .@ImageCurve

Lynn’s “a” looks like mine. I hesitate for a second, pray, then open the envelop. Inside lies a folded card with artwork from the Met. Her handwritten message—written right-side to left—begins by thanking me for my “kindness.” Next, she comments on my “enlightened parents” and the importance of “good nurturing.”

Then she asks about my writing. Finally, she offers ways I may contact her. Email, although she checks from a public library computer once a week. A cell phone number—for a phone turned off during the day.

I lay the note aside. It’s aloof, almost business-like tone, with no mention of herself. Or how she felt about me. Not even a hint of explanation as to why she gave me up.

I wonder if I was better off leaving it in the envelop unread.

taken from her arms
cold comfort in cold words
on a museum card

 

Photo by Kelly Sikkema

 

first published on Image Curve, October 18, 2018

 

for dVerse Poets’ OLN #230 (pubtended by Grace)

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12 replies »

  1. kaykuala

    I wonder if I was better off
    leaving it in the envelop unread.

    In a way this may be a good option, as not knowing will not hurt. But knowing it is a better option as one has the privilege of knowing more than just wondering what was written inside. You did well for opting on the second, Frank!

    Hank

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That sharpest barb
    Was the cold icing
    Of kindness
    Weaponized.
    Of course
    One may presume
    She knew many
    Or just a single thing
    About the parents
    Raising a question
    Wrapped in the
    Heavy card stock that
    First had felt so hopeful
    In his hand
    Why must it always
    Be about the parents
    Somehow always gazing
    Out behind that veil
    Chiding or building us.
    I hold back opening
    My own face to the
    World holding the
    Heart of my father’s
    Expectation covered
    And unknowing and
    Trembling in
    My slender hand.

    Silt settles
    In the quiet stream.
    A drink of
    Clear water
    Drawn from a large river

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Shoot! That comment published because my fat fingers pressed publish while I was still editing! Anyway, trying again how I meant it below, loved your piece and it prompted my ramblings above, but the shadorma postscript wasn’t done. Smart phone, dumb computer 🤷🏻‍♀️

    Liked by 1 person

  4. That sharpest barb was the cold icing of weaponized kindness. Of course one may presume she knew many or just a single thing about the parents, raising a question wrapped in the heavy card stock that first had weighed so hopeful in his hand. Why must there always be something about the parents somehow always gazing out from behind a veil – building or questioning?

    I hold back opening my own face to the world holding the heart of my father’s generous dreams covered and unknowing and trembling in my slender hand.

    Silt settles
    In the quiet stream.
    A drink of
    Clear water
    Drawn from a river rising
    From a muddy spring.

    Liked by 1 person

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