“Great Barrier Reef”
She mouths at the inscription.
Curves brows, “Dad…what’s that?”
Can a short story be haiku?
Category: Unplugged
As war mother’s tears
shedding, scattering plenty,
yet prettier, spring.
They observe,
from the sidelines
behind human boundaries
mutely.
Ghosts of past,
felled by hunters,
now shed skins, peeling,
naturally.
Wheels pass by,
not unlike time,
in twos, threes, and sixes—
boundless.
Fiercely defiant,
owners of the land,
masked in ashen white—
eucalypti.
Note: Eucalypus, or gum trees, are beautiful trees to stare at and they’re endemic to south-eastern Australia where I now live.
Stunted, I stand—
like a child facing its father
drunk, with no pride, scowling;
as that child registering,
look on its mother’s face.
Stunted, I stand—
as a yearning pianist
learning, watching masters
gliding fingers, seamless
so much to be stressful.
Stunted, I stand—
as a teen, hopeless, in love
curious, cluelessly licking,
purposefully his own lips,
to feel remains of hers.
Stunted, I stand—
mute as a muted video,
blinking, in slowed motion,
afraid, lest the picture fades,
the sun in my horizon.
Scaled,
stepped on,
pricked and poked,
scabbed, stared at,
gawked, and pointed at,
studied, zoomed in on,
zoomed out—
traced and outlined,
measure… for measure…
muddied, set animals on,
and mulled over
fantasised with,
fascinated by,
pictured, framed, and famed,
reflected on, projected as,
even protective of—
Moon,
unperturbed shines.
