People say how unfair that Carolyn gets killed by the train while her drunken boyfriend walks away with just bruises.

It’s Christmas week before the ninth-grade dance. Carolyn hands me a note at the bus stop, informs me we’re no longer best friends. She won’t be needing to borrow my Princess Anne heels after all. Joyce has nicer clothes.

I read my mother’s face. How many times did Carolyn eat meals at our house? How many times did she spend the night? How many secrets did you share with her? How many popsicles did you buy her from your allowance?

As I dress for the funeral, my mother asks, why bother.

voice of a dove ripples the morning air

(Modern Haiku, Summer 2021)

(Modern Haiku, Summer 2021)