Drinking alone by moonlight.
Shadow, I miss us having the time
to talk everything to death
like we used to under the sun.
He says nothing, staring at the moon.
Then I club his head, slit his throat
pull forth the guts, tear the body
into pieces through which I wade.
Published in Sketchbook, 6:5, September/October 2011
A Room of My Own: White Picket Fence Haiku - | | white picket fence | I step on the neighbor's shadow | ...