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haibun 31<br />
haibun<br />
Reunion<br />
My sons surf alone while my husband fetches his kayak. My daughter’s<br />
furious our walk must wait. Her words sting. Sunlight so intimately, over<br />
and over, spines each wave’s cocoon. Her father’s been gone from us<br />
weeks in a row. Neither of us forgive him. A greyish pink hazes the hills of<br />
Mexico at this end of the beach, Pt. Loma’s old and new lighthouses<br />
visible at the other. Her need frightens me when I’m tired.<br />
come, little one, find<br />
us a sand dollar, let’s wish<br />
on its bowlegged star<br />
Tania Pryputniewicz
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