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WHChaibun - Michael McClintock; Linda Robeck

 

Shiva of Basins

Michael McClintock
South Pasadena, CA, USA




No one claims the rewards of oblivion -- by all they are merely waited for and always received.

.................this bright day . . .
.................the empty house
.................of my mother


I came to retrieve papers, a few mementoes, decide what furniture to keep, what to discard, to turn off the gas and take away the phone.  I did those things and left, troubled.

I drove out to the condor reserve in the Los Padres forest and watched one of the great birds.  How strange her solitary, high cascading passage through the day. There is in this creature no willing messiah of restoration or mending.  She is a kind of Shiva, and in her flight you can see the intolerable weariness of time, in the wing's stroking length and thick feathered blackness, weary of days and eons of days -- the flying out, the returning, the feeding and sleeping and rising again.

For half a minute, no more, through the trees, I watch how she lofts upward, voluminous of wing, snake-headed, then slides down the sky and into a low glide, out over the basalt palisades, toward the Mojave basin.

I turn and go, having seen what I needed.

 


 

Summer Heat

Linda Robeck
Merrimack Valley, MA, USA




I stay home to wait for the electrical inspector. He arrives in a huge new pickup truck that I hear while it is still a block away. A big man to match the size of his truck, he walks in like he owns the place, and makes snide remarks about our housing development, our landscaping, our neighbors. I try to change the subject. In the next town a man was just arrested for imprisoning his family and raping two of his daughters for the past six years. No one even knew there were children in the house. But it wasn't even a house - it was an old storefront with plywood in the windows. I had driven past many times and thought the place abandoned. The inspector says the rapist should be caged in the town square, so people can poke at him with sticks and break the man's teeth. He pantomimes it again and again, a small grunt escaping with each thrust. After he leaves, I lock all the doors.


too shy
to speak to strangers
she hides behind her hair

 

Next Page: Haibun by Serge Tomé

 




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